The Emancipation of Leah Clearwater
by Sharzdah
Summary: The year was 2019. A year since seeing her life crumble before her very eyes. A year since discovering her partner her ride-and-die. A year since being assigned to the most complicated homicide case in Chicago's history. Five months since receiving the bite. Sequel to Miseducation of Leah Uley. AU/Case fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Copyright infringement of any kind not intended. I graduated from the Google School of Criminal Justice with a minor in Supernatural Studies. Unbeta'd, but always in search of any volunteers. **

**Author's Note: This is the sequel to _The Miseducation of Leah Uley_. Rated M for strong language, violence, and mature situations. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

"If you had to choose a turning point in your life. Any time for any reason, what would it be?"

Leah couldn't provide an immediate answer. If it were her choice, she would remain tight-lipped, but deep inside, she knew her silence wouldn't help matters, wouldn't help her. After all, she was sitting face-to-face with her therapist, someone who was supposed to help her… figure out her life.

Slumping against the back of the couch, she pondered her choices. She could mention the untimely death of her father, would have but one day kept flashing like a neon sign in her mind—December 10, 2017.

"December 10," Leah would late breathe out, circling in red the date on an old calendar. She ripped out the December-month page and pinned it to the inside of her bedroom door.

Goodness, so much had changed since that fateful night that ended with Leah no longer trusting her husband or his mistress—her cousin who, at one time, was considered as a sister.

From that moment on, Leah's life, both private and professional, had endured a chaotic overhaul, beginning with a shouting match with Sam, who, unfortunately, shared her profession, the loss of a frustrated, unsympathetic partner and the introduction of another, someone who had seemingly disregarded Leah's than stellar reputation around the police force. A man, not to be dramatic, who was the reason why she was still breathing today.

Then, January 15, 2018 happened—that night, Leah would find herself at LaPush Hotel, hovering over the mutilated body of Jessica Stanley, the Chicago Dahlia. Not long after, Leah and Jacob found themselves engrossed in one of the most insane, convoluted investigations in Chicago's illustrious criminal history.

Five months had passed since that night in the Chicago underground tunnels. Thanks to Leah's heroics (albeit questionable), that night ended her life as a human, transforming her into a shapeshifter. (Not that she had the chance to experience being a wolf, much to her displeasure and utter frustration.)

Four months had passed since Leah learned about her husband's attempted murder: a bullet to the head, forcing the undercover cop into a coma and out of work until the new year. Despite Sam's admirable efforts, the higher powers had decided that it would be best for the cop to transferred to another unit. Sam needed to lay low for a bit, a prospect that he had taken him weeks to accept.

Four months had passed since Sam submitted to Leah's demands and agreed to the divorce.

Four months since that fateful conversation with Jane, a former member of the Volturi, one of the investigation's many subjects. A vampire, who, out of pure grief from the loss of her brother, had decided that she would not be loyal to the coven and became an informant.

Around the same time, Mike Newton had been discovered dead in Cook County Jail, soon before he would officially accept a plea deal: manslaughter instead of Murder-One for the death of Lauren Mallory. His death had been (and still was) ruled as a suicide, but anyone with a brain knew that the man had been killed.

By whom? No one knew. It seemed that no one knew much of anything relating to the investigation into the criminal activities of various Chicago-based covens. But Leah vowed to change that; after all, Jane had given her the tapes, depicting the murder of Jessica Stanley.

It was _something_.

* * *

"Alright, we're only gonna do this for a little while," Leah declared, clasping her hands together and pushing them forward, palms first, stretching out her arms. She was determined, ready to relish in triumph in front of the man sitting across from her, watching her with amusement. "After all, we still gotta go to work tomorrow, and somehow arrest someone connected to our case from Hell."

"I'm sad we still don't have a badass name for the case," Jacob said, leaning back in his seat. "And of course, you're the boss, so you make the rules."

Leah grinned as she dumped the playing cards onto Jacob's kitchen table. She neatly stacked the cards and began shuffling.

She was in a good mood, honestly had been (relatively speaking) since the new year. Just a couple of weeks before, she had celebrated her first anniversary being work-married to Jacob (and somehow not managing to drive said-partner away). In two weeks, she would no longer be married. In less than three months, she would be taking a much-needed trip to Vegas.

Drama, be damned.

"Seriously?" Jacob laughed as he watched Leah handle the cards, mimicking quite well, a seasoned Vegas card dealer. "I thought we were playing a _real_ card game."

"Do not underestimate the competitiveness UNO brings," Leah advised as the cards flowed through her fingers. "I can't promise you that I'll be cordial." Her eyes narrowed. "You're going down."

"It's a kid's game."

"UNO is for all ages," Leah pointed out, locking eyes with Jacob, not breaking her stride as if a seasoned Vegas card dealer. "Because of this, we're going to raise the stakes. Since we're _adults_." She began dealing the cards for herself and her partner. "Get some money involved. Twenty dollars for each winning round."

Jacob chuckled and directed a playful grin to Leah. "Gambling, are we?" Then, he took one look at his hand. From the way his smile quickly dropped, Leah knew she won that round.

"Are you okay?" Leah asked, feigning concern. "We don't have to do this."

Jacob gave her the finger, earning him a hearty laugh.

"I'm only making things more interesting, Black," Leah taunted as she pulled out a few bills from her pocket and slammed them onto the table. Jacob, though reluctantly, did the same. "You're down for five rounds?"

Jacob shrugged, nonchalant. "Don't mind making some money."

Leah's mouth twitched, excited laced with some pity about the possibility of winning money. "What makes you think you will?"

"I _do_ know how to play UNO," Jacob claimed, holding his head up high. "I'm a master at this game."

"Are you?"

"Yeah," Jacob said with a smirk. He rolled his shoulders, sat up in his seat and tapped the table, signaling he was ready to get the show on the road. "Are you?"

Despite Jacob's confidence, he wouldn't be able to prove much.

"So close, yet so far…" Jacob later whined as he begrudgingly picked up more cards from the card. At one time, all Jacob had needed was to drop one more card before grinning the round. And now, thanks to Leah being Leah, had five in his hand.

"I thought you were an expect?" Leah teased. When she lost another card, she shook her head, sucking her teeth, "You're not living up to your claim."

Jacob's face contorted in annoyance, but Leah, knowing her partner far too well, knew he wouldn't be aggravated for long. Like most people in the world, he simply hated losing. Eventually, Jacob loosened up and tossed in a card. "Disappointed?"

Leah threw in a card, leaving her with only one in her hand. Her face light up. "_UNO_!" she declared.

Jacob tossed his head back and groaned. "Damn it, woman!" He brought his face forward and slid a twenty-dollar by to his grinning partner before clapping a couple of times, signaling he was ready to redeem himself. "Alright, let's go."

"You're setting yourself up for more failure, Detective," Leah said, eyes sparkling with determination as she shuffled another deck. "I don't want you to lose any more money. Us, public servants aren't made of money."

"Oh, fuck you," Jacob retorted, but without much heat. "You're going down this time—" he stopped his declaration at the sound of his buzzing phone. He checked it and laughed wholeheartedly. "This guy…" He held up the device for Leah to see. "He's on a date."

Leah leaned over the table. "Aw, look at Embry," she cooed, placing a dramatic hand over her heart. "He's smiling. She's smiling… and cute."

"Lisa Chan. A paralegal and Johnson and Parelli," Jacob told Leah before taking a swig of his beer. "He met her while trying to get some documents for the slaughterhouse case."

"Why not kill two birds with one stone?" Leah chuckled, shaking her head fondly, and then, "Conflict of interest won't be an issue?"

Jacob pocketed his phone. "Nah."

"What about you?"

Jacob gathered his cards and held them up. "Huh?"

"Testing the waters?" Leah clarified.

"Kinda a bad time with the case and all…"

"Not to Embry, it is."

"It's never a bad time for him," Jacob pointed out. He didn't sound upset or anything of the like, but the teasing tone from before had disappeared. "You know, Rebecca's still trying to set me up…"

Leah vaguely recalled Jacob mentioning something about his sister-initiated blind dates; Nothing came of them, and Leah was starting to wonder if Jacob had purposely sabotaged them. Or maybe there was simply no chemistry between Jacob and the other women—she didn't know.

She picked up the next card of the desk and placed it in the middle of the pile. She tossed in a corresponding card. "Team Single forever?"

"I dunno… sometimes, I miss it, you know," Jacob confessed, voice quiet. He bit his lip and sighed. "For years, I've shared a bed with someone, had breakfast the next morning with someone, sometimes if work wasn't _work_, dinner. Only to do it all again the next day, and now, it's just me, myself, and I…"

Leah stared at her cards, speechless. She knew precisely how Jacob felt; she, too, had shared the same concerns, but the thought of starting something new after the emotional rollercoaster that was 2018 didn't entice her. What she needed was a goddamn relationship detox.

"One-night standards?" Leah eventually suggested. "It'll get you a girlfriend for the night."

Jacob looked above his cards with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Isn't sleeping over against the rules of hookups?"

"I wouldn't know much about that," Leah admitted, somewhat bitterly. It had been a _while_. "But I guess you're right." She picked up a couple of cards. "Have you considered casual dating?"

"Thought had crossed my mind."

"And?"

"Tried a couple of months back…"

Leah nodded. Yeah, she remembered that—the date wasn't something neither had talked much about. The woman in question was a kindergarten teacher. A nice, pretty lady, but judging on how tight-lipped Jacob was, it wasn't successful.

"Doesn't mean you should stop," Leah advised, and then, thinking about her own situation, "Aisha said I should go out and look for something, _someone_, but I can't bring myself to do it."

"Those marriage vows."

Leah's jaw clenched as the hold on her cards tightened. "Those marriage vows."

It was funny yet sad how she was still abiding by the rules of a fruitless marriage since the beginning, while Sam had disregarded them for the past three years.

Jacob made a nose in his throat. "Do you _have_ to wait?"

Leah sighed and tossed in another card. Jacob was starting to sound like Aisha, who never failed to point out that Leah needed to do things for her. Not for her failing marriage—

"I'm still legally married to him," she reasoned. "A part of me thinks going down that road would be hypocritical. I'm mad at him for cheating on me, and then, I'm going to go ahead and do the same?"

"He started it."

"Doesn't matter."

"You only said a part of you," Jacob brought up. "What does the other part say?"

Leah gave the man a dirty look. "I hate that you're a detective, always picking up shit."

Jacob smirked, proud. "Part of the job."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I need to get laid,'' Leah confessed, earning a completely unhelpful boisterous laugh from her partner. She ended up tossing a stray card at him. "You wanted me to be honest."

"And I'm glad that you are," Jacob replied, still chuckling. Once he decided to contain himself, he asked, "So, how about it? Wanna be each other's wingmen? It'll definitely get my sister off my back."

"You're kidding," Leah replied, giving Jacob a deadpanned look until she realized that he wasn't joking at all. "Thought you said you wanted to be alone."

"I said I didn't want to be in a _relationship_," Jacob clarified and shrugged. "A tumble in bed won't hurt."

"I'll be your wingman," Leah decided, but, "Remember I'm still _married_."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Ah, right. So, how about we wait until everything's finalized?" he offered. "We have a couple of weeks."

"No I.O.U's?"

"I don't wanna forget, and you get mad at me," Jacob explained. "So, after the divorce?"

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

_Waste Management  
1500 N Hooker St. Presence requested ASAP.  
Potential biohazard._

"Potential bio-hazard," Leah slowly read from the note in her hands. For a brief moment, she hoped that her eyes and mind were deceiving her. It was too early in the day, in the workweek for "potential bio-hazard". She stared at the small note in her hand, hastily scribbled on about an hour again during a phone call with dispatch. "Looks like the hazmats are coming out." She huffed, crumbling the paper. "Can't make this shit up."

_Potential biohazard_. Those two words continuously ran in Leah's mind as she looked out of the car window, zeroing in on her destination, a landfill. She supposed the words made sense now; landfills were nothing but solid cesspools.

"Just what we need on a Monday morning," Jacob mumbled as he drove down the road towards the landfill's main gate. "Can't ever say we're bored..."

"I think I prefer the boredom."

An ironic statement for a detective who, at the beginning of her career in the Chicago Police Department, had wanted her life, her work, to mirror the crime-fighting movies.

"Well, you joined the wrong unit, Clearwater."

"I wasn't exactly _asked_ to join."

"Sure, you were," Jacob insisted, stopping at the lone red light. He could have sped past it; no one was in the vicinity save for the slew of emergency vehicles (and unfortunately, some members of the media) about a mile away. "You could have said no."

Leah actually had fully intended to.

But then Paul just _had_ to be persuasive.

"And _Paul_ would have accepted that?"

"Paul wouldn't force you to do anything besides your job," Jacob said. "But I see what you're saying." He let out a humorless chuckle. "Just one day, I'd like to fall upon a simple homicide."

"Homicides are never simple," Leah pointed out. It was a fact she had learned the hard way, though admittedly, she wouldn't mind "simple". The city didn't need any more drama, any more sensational murders. Not for another night, year. Hell, for eternity. "Some are less complicated than others."

Jacob glanced at her, made a noise in his throat, and pressed down on the gas pedal when the light finally turned green. The detectives fell into a comfortable silence as they advanced to their next stop: the gate, guarded by the facility's security and fellow cops.

"When was the last time we had a less complicated homicide case?" He asked, rolling down the window. He presented his badge to security, actions copied by his partner. "I mean, simple, wham, bam, and that's it?"

Truth to be told, it was one of the only homicides from the past year that still didn't have a clear suspect. Or maybe she could go beyond that. Before January 15, 2019, before the Chicago Dahlia's murder, before the proverbial shit hit the fan in the city of Chicago.

Leah went back to her first choice. "Mike Newton."

Jacob pulled into a parking space and shut down the car engine. "That was suicide," he told Leah before exiting the car.

"So, they say…"

"So, Bella says," Jacob confirmed, slamming the car door shut.

Rolling her eyes, Leah retrieved her coffee from the cup holder and followed her partner's lead walking towards the scene of the crime. From their vantage point, it wasn't as dramatic as the Chicago Dahlia's. The media was here, but it wasn't a circus. A couple of police cars were seen leaving the premises. And no hazmats—a pleasant surprise. Or maybe they had been there earlier. "Oh, _come on_, you can't possibly think that' the end of his story. Slitting his own throat before formally accepting a plea deal? Now, that's just _convenient_."

"We've been looking in his death since October," Jacob argued, though seemingly with only himself. "It's now February, and we haven't found a damn thing."

"Maybe we're not looking hard enough," Leah challenged, bringing the Styrofoam cup to her lips. She had only been out of the car for a few minutes, but she was already questioning her decision to stay in the city during the bitter cold: negative twenty-seven degrees, actual temperature. Real-feel, goodness only knew.

Jacob adjusted the scarf around his neck and shoved his hands in his winter coat pockets. "Maybe," he mumbled before cocking his head towards the direction of the real action. "Let's get this over with before we both freeze to death."

* * *

"What do you have for us?" Leah asked a coworker as she and Jacob stood in the clearing between two piles of garbage. It had taken Leah much willpower not to vomit at the overwhelming smell. She wondered if Jacob was feeling the same. One look and she realized that he didn't. Or maybe he did but was used to it. Grimacing, she adjusted her scarf over her nose. It only helped somewhat.

"About an hour and a half ago, a couple of guys from sanitation fell upon a frozen body half-way out of a garbage bag," the cop replied, shuddering at the sudden gush of the brisk wind. "Female. Twenties. Brown hair… I guess she was white."

The detectives shared a look and a grimace.

This was clearly not a "simple" homicide.

"You _guess_ she was white?" Jacob asked.

The cop gulped. "Decomposition didn't do her appearance any favors."

The detectives shared a look.

"Wonderful," Jacob grumbled. "Hey, man, show us the way."

"Yeah, no problem," the cop said, gesturing the detectives to follow his lead.

The group eventually reached the crime scene, located in the northwest corner of the landfill, a usually remote area currently occupied by the usual.

"ID?" Leah asked as the crew walked past the crowd of media, all of whom were barred from crossing the caution tape and a row of cops. Some reporters tried to get the detectives' attention, only to be brushed off by the usually "no information" jargon.

"Surprisingly, yes," the cop replied, directing the detectives over the caution tape. "A driver's license was found on the victim." He checked his note pad. "Gianna Maria Castellano from Cicero, Illinois."

The detectives stopped in their tracks. They slowly faced each other, alarmed, silently confirming that they had heard correctly. They had. Gianna… if it was truly her, it would provide a major (yet tragic) break in the case.

She thought of Embry, the one who had proposed about the second victim of the LaPush incident, later to be determined as possible, most likely, Gianna. The cop wasn't with the detectives today, having been moved to Aisha's team following Sam's transfer from the unit. It was sad to see him go, but it was a good move for the young man who would soon be taking the detective exam with Paul's blessing.

"Nothing is ever easy," Jacob told Leah.

Leah nodded in response.

* * *

"About time you two showed up," Dr. Eric Yorkie called out the detectives, feigning annoyance when they reached him. He was kneeling next to his tools and an occupied body bag. "I thought you'd both be here earlier. We're just about ready to leave."

"Good morning to you, too," Leah said. "We _did_ plan to get here on time."

"Pile up on Lake Shore," Jacob said flippantly, eyes glued to the body bag. "Is it true? Is it really Gianna?"

"That's what it says on the license found in her jeans," Eric said. "But of course, we have to confirm through tests."

"Can we see the body?" Leah asked. Though not in the mood to see a partially decomposed corpse, she supposed the sight couldn't be worse than the LaPush crime scene. For one, there wasn't as much blood.

The look Eric gave Leah was questioning, as if silently asking if she really wanted to go through that road, but eventually, he nodded, bringing the face mask from around his neck to his nose.

"Holy fuck," Jacob cursed, taking a step back. He squeezed his nostrils with one hand and repeated, "_Holy_ _fuck_."

The putrid smell hit Leah just as hard. She held her breath, bringing a hand over her scarf-covered nose. She was at the point in her where she could handle being around the newly-dead without vomiting. But this—No. She wanted to run as away from this damned place as possible, but she held back because she was a homicide detective. She could handle this.

"How is there a smell when it's frozen?" Leah asked the medical examiner.

"The beauty of plastic bags," Eric replied with a shrugged as he watched the detectives through sympathetic eyes. "Yet another upside of being only human," he remarked, shaking his head. He pointed at the body. "Garbage bags do wonders for the decomposition process. All that humidity. No air."

"Thank you for that," Leah mumbled, finally gaining enough courage to expose her nose. She took a step further. "Estimated time of death?" she asked.

"Don't know," Eric admitted, adjusting his face mask as he studied the body. "Unfortunately, when one is found among garbage, the variables… vary."

"Cause of death?" Jacob asked.

"Can't tell exactly. The body's in a weird frozen putrefaction stage." With a gloved hand, Eric carefully pulled back the soiled red scarf from the corpse's nape, revealing nothing but tissue and blood. "There's some sort of gash across her neck, but I can't confirm if anything until further examination."

Jacob ran a hand over his hat. "Well, it seems that our case just became even more interesting."

Leah nodded.

Eric zipped up the body bag, and stood up, discarding a pair of latex gloves for another. "You knew her?"

"Of her," Leah said. "We have reasons to suspect that she was there when the Dahlia was killed. She was one of Demetri's many lovers. We also found traces of her blood at the scene."

Eric looked between the body and Leah. "Well, shit."

"Call Embry," Leah directed Jacob. "Tell him we found his Victim Number Two."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"Just when you thought his investigation couldn't get crazier, another dead body pops up. Aren't you glad you're officially a member of the Voldemort Unit? Twists and turns everywhere you go."

Before 2018, Leah had never heard of the Voldemort Taskforce. The thought of the supernatural, existing outside of folklore and questionable novels and televisions shows, had never crossed her mind. Vampires, shapeshifters, fairies being real? Impossible.

But then Jacob, and his unwavering trust in Leah, had come along as her partner. And then, the Chicago Dahlia debacle happened, and suddenly, Leah had found herself thrust into a world that was hidden in plain sight.

The supernatural existed alright; they were just in the closet.

And the supernatural, just like humans, were not perfect beings, and just like their human brethren, did not always follow the law.

Supernatural crime-fighting was just as, if not more, complicated the one involving humans. For one, as mentioned previously, the supernatural did not live their lives _openly_ due to the possibility of creating absolute havoc with the general population (which might include military intervention which no one wanted). Secondly, a particular species (vampires) could exist for thousands of years and, therefore, only abided by their own people's rules—Hence the creation of the Deal back in the 60s.

Which contained many flaws, including but not limited to letting some, particularly those associated with criminal organizations, getting away with illegal acts. Which ultimately contributed to the mess that was the St. Patrick's Day Massacre. Which, of course, was directly responsible for the creation of the very unit Leah, as of January 1, 2019, was officially, permanently assigned to.

The Voldemort Unit's primary focus was to investigate and assist in the prosecution of those involved in supernatural criminal organizations, including the Olympic Coven (the Cullen and Denali family, the Volturi and the Night Fangs. During the past few months, the unit had undergone many changes besides becoming a staple (on a secretive-basis) of the Chicago Police Department.

Since the new year, more personnel were added to the Unit, increasing the numbers to more than thirty, some even from outside agencies. The scope of work was more focused; everyone was broken into teams responsible for one aspect of the extensive investigation: Detective Edgar Martinez returned to handling gangs, particularly the Night Fangs who was primed for a comeback ever since Victoria and her crew had been tossed into the slammer back in the Fall. Officer Jared Cameron was no longer the unit's whipping boy and updated to assisting Martinez's team. Detective Aisha St. Pierre was focused on the ongoing slaughterhouse and Denali (including Irina) murders, with the assistance of Officer Embry, who unofficially replaced Sam. Detective Detectives Jacob Black and Leah Uley were assigned to the Dahlia murder and its direct results, including the untimely death of Mike Newton.

But with even all of the changes, one thing did stay the same: the captain. Captain Paul Lahote could be crass and most likely had anger management (and internal affairs) on speed dial. Still, he was a good supervisor because he got things _done_ while making a concerted effort to ensure the safety of those under him. By any means, including out his superiors for more or less handcuffing his cops from making arrests because of the damned Deal—it had been a risk to take. It could have resulted in demotion, but instead, the stunt resulted in an implicit allowance to arrest the supernatural (without much fanfare, of course) and work with the feds, in deemed necessary.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

"So, Gianna Castellano has finally been found…" Paul said, leaning back in his chair with numerous files in his hands, provided by the two detectives sitting on the other side of his desk. He didn't sound mad or frustrated; his voice carried a sense of acceptance, a sense of… going along with the flow while trying to stay above water. A far cry from the hero-attitude he was often associated with.

The change of attitude had nothing to do with the captain's work ethic. He still cared about the investigation, about his unit and still had no issue with putting people (i.e., disconnected superiors and the feds) in their place. But now… now, all he wanted to do was get the investigation over with. It was driving everyone up the wall.

"It's not ideal," he added, frowning. He dropped the report onto his desk and sat up, folding his hands over the pages. "I rather her be _alive_, but at least we know her fate."

Leah and Jacob nodded in agreement. Just the day before, the Office of the Medical Examiner had verified that the body found in the landfill was, indeed, Gianna.

"And she was found in a dump?" Paul questioned for the umpteenth time as he lifted a page from the report and skimmed it over again—There was something about Gianna's resting place that puzzled Paul and the detectives.

"The culprits did a terrible job disposing of her," Jacob remarked, shaking his head in disappointment. "They didn't even reinforce the garbage bag. Still, I don't understand how it took this long to find her."

"There's a lot of trash in a landfill," Paul pointed out, before letting out a tired sigh and asking, "Estimated death of death?"

"Don't know," Leah admitted. "But we assume that it couldn't have been long after the Dahlia's death. I'm talking about hours. After all, Gianna was there at the time of the Dahlia's murder. We have tapes to prove it and DNA…"

"Traces of her blood were found on the walls," Jacob added.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "And that's been confirmed?"

Leah shared a look with her partner and cleared her throat. "Gianna was a part of a…" she trailed off, moving her hands in circles, trying to gather the right words. "A subculture that obsessively reveres vampires. Each member donated a vial of their blood to the group's administrator, which apparently, is connected to some ritual—the man started spilling the beans when we showed him our badges."

Paul blinked. "And he didn't put up a fight? You know those people _never_ want to cooperate with us."

"Leah's glares are no joke," Jacob remarked with a light chuckle. He winked at his partner, who, in turn, directed one of her patented glares. "In all seriousness, the guy didn't want all the smoke… and the bad press. Even offered to come in for question, in necessary."

"Oh look, we don't have to strong-arm someone into questioning," Paul declared with a snort. Cooperating citizens (from inception) was a rarity in the unit. "So, the perps left one body in a hotel room and another at a dump. Why?"

"We're trying to find that ourselves," Leah replied; the answer was typical, so obvious, but needed to be said, needed to be emphasized. Just like everything else in this damned investigation. "Despite her beliefs, Gianna wasn't important to the Volturi. She worked with the coven with hopes of becoming one of them. Unfortunately, the Volturi only viewed her as a secretary and Demetri's plaything."

"The Volturi were going to kill her off eventually," Jacob told Paul. "The issue is why the dump. This is the Volturi; they're known for being discreet with the disposal of their prey."

"Plus," Leah added. "Gianna wasn't drained of blood."

Paul leaned back against his chair. "Are we sure that the vampires did it?" he questioned, rubbing his chin. "Usually, when the Volturi recruit humans: they use and abuse them. Why wouldn't they feed on Gianna? Human blood is a hot commodity."

"We don't know, but will find out," Jacob vowed.

"I do not doubt that you two will," Paul said, sincere. "Can Jane's tapes provide some insight into what the hell happened to Gianna?"

Those infamous tapes—proof of Jane's contribution to the Voldemort Unit's cause. Jane had provided them to Leah back in October, all in the name of revenge. The tapes were no doubt damning and were one of the reasons why the feds were doing everything their power to get the Volturi out of Moldova.

The tapes, derived from a hidden camera, depicted the events leading to Jessica Stanley's murder, starting with the exchange of money and ultraviolets between the five occupants of the infamous hotel room, and ending with Jessica slumping into the floor, lifeless, seconds after receiving Demetri's fatal bite.

Gianna had been there the whole time, sitting in a black leather loveseat, watching intently as Jessica and Demetri made use of the master bedroom's king-size bedroom. Her expression was interesting, not one of anger or jealousy, just blank with slivers of lust. She had her eyes on the couple until the very end, when Demetri bared his fangs. After Jessica's death, Gianna could be seen rising from her seat with a smirk, gravitating to the vampire with open arms.

Then the video ended.

"So," Paul said after Leah reminded him of the tapes' contents. "All we know was that Gianna was alive immediately following Jessica's death." When Jacob and Leah confirmed his statement, the captain continued, "Were any other tapes found?"

"According to Jane, they've all been destroyed," Leah replied. "Demetri only recorded his trysts for immediate gratification."

Jacob made a noise of utter disgust.

"And you believe that?" Paul challenged.

"I've learned not to rely _completely_ on an informant's words," Leah replied. Except for Riley Biers Band Benjamin al-Fadhil, it appeared. But in her defense, Riley had been sincerely disappointed in his boss' involvement in Bree's demise. And Benjamin (Yusuf, Leah had to remember. _Agent Yusuf Mansour_) had been working undercover for the ATF; technically, he had been on the Voldemort Unit's side the ensure time. "But I can see if I can get something out of her."

"Isn't she out of state?"

In New York, to be more specific.

"I can reach out to her," Leah insisted. She didn't want to declare that she had a direct line of communication with the former Volturi member—but in a way, she did. Ever since that night in October, Jane had been serving as a cooperating informant.

"You do that," Paul said, slapping a hand on his desk. "And try not to get killed or injured or whatever in the process."

"Luck has thankfully been on my side during every interaction with Jane," Leah said. She had no idea how long her luck would last, though. Jane wasn't to be entirely trusted. "There are risks, of course, but remember, she's the rational one."

Jacob crossed his arms and scoffed.

"Rational people don't declare war on the Volturi without a one-person army," Paul argued.

"She's in the process of building her own coven," Leah pointed out.

"Speaking of covens, are we just going to let her do that?" Jacob asked.

"Building a coven isn't against the law," Paul reasoned, though based on the exasperated expression on his face, it was clear that he wished otherwise. "It's like saying our pack is illegal, which is not. Things only become interesting in those social groups when crimes are being committed."

Leah nodded in agreement.

"And you don't think she's committed a crime since our little deal?"

Leah didn't mind Jacob challenging her. The other detectives' doubts had nothing do with Leah's ability; the issue was that Leah was dealing with Jane. _Jane_. "Not that we know of," Leah said. "We'll deal with it if and when the problem arises."

Jacob was about to protest, but Paul interjected, "The feds have their eyes on her. I mean, of course, they do, she's been working with them, too." He shrugged, and then, "Did you tell our fellow packmate about this new development?"

"We told him we found her, but didn't want to give the gritty details until after he comes back in a couple of days," Jacob replied quietly. "Didn't want to ruin his day off."

* * *

Leah hadn't _wanted_ to call Benjamin, not for anything related to work. He was already swamped with his own work. He was no longer working undercover on an official capacity. Still, now, he had to deal with the aftermath—the upcoming trial in which he would have to testify against those who had considered him to be their friend, their comrade.

But as she stood in line in her favorite coffee shop, sometime after her shift ended for the day, Leah realized that she might not have any choice. He was just as much involved in this mess as she and Jacob were.

"Hey Benjamin," Leah said over the phone before chastising herself for once again, completely forgetting to call the agent by his real name. The mix-up wasn't for nefarious reasons; Leah had sent numerous months referring to the agent by his undercover name. It was a habit that could never go away. "Sorry, Yusuf—"

"Hey, Benjamin, Ben, is fine. Do you know many nicknames my so-called work friends have for me?" Benjamin replied in a muffled voice. Leah could tell he was outside, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he exited his car before slamming the door shut. "How's life in the Windy City?"

Leah went straight to the point. "We found her."

There was a pause.

"Wait, _seriously_?"

"You didn't hear about it on the news?"

"Gianna Castellano isn't exactly a rare Italian name."

"Stop by in the morning, around eight?" Leah asked before thanking the barista for her drink, a double-shot latté: a decision that completely went against her limited-caffeine plan. But it was going to be a long day for the detective. "I promise Paul won't try to lock you inside the holding cell for days. Again."

"Paul, my man," Benjamin chuckled, no doubt flashing back his _wonderful_ interactions with the hot-head captain. "Will be there."

* * *

"So, you guys think Gianna wasn't killed in at LaPush, but what's up with the blood on the walls?" Benjamin asked the group of Chicago cops the following morning as he studied Gianna's crime scene photos in his hands. Grimacing, he handed the photos back to Paul. "Oh, _boy_.

"It could've been an injury," Jacob suggested with a half shrug. "And then, they finished her off elsewhere before dumping her at the landfill."

Ben nodded, and then, "Cause of death?"

"Unofficially," Leah replied, handing the agent a copy of the coroner's unsigned report. "Blunt force trauma to the head."

Ben scanned the report and returned it. "How did the blood get on the walls?"

"We don't know," Leah admitted.

"Your people still have an interest in the Dahlia-Slaughterhouse-Denali case?" Paul asked the agent before adding, "Seriously, we need to think of a better name for this damn investigation. Bosses wouldn't let me call it 'DSD'; claim it sounds like some underground drug."

Everyone chuckled before Benjamin replied, "Unfortunately, they're more focused on the Velasquez cartel than the Dahlia case." He sighed. "I know it's fucked up what happened to Jessica and now, Gianna, but the ATF thinks they have bigger fish to fry. _But_ I've been doing some snooping around of my own, not officially, for obvious reasons…"

Leah had to give it up to Benjamin; what he was doing, what he had been doing for quite some time, was bold. Especially after playing both the Cullen's and the Volturi for fools. In her eyes, Benjamin was either really brave or really stupid. Or simply, just lucky. Most likely, the latter.

"I thought the ATF gave you the Donnie Brasco treatment?" Paul said to Benjamin. "I thought they made a deal with the gangs to leave you alone?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean the covens don't want my head on a silver platter," Ben pointed out. Despite his morbid comment, the agent didn't seem too concerned about his welfare. "Anyway, so like I eluded to: I've been conducting a little side investigation of my own, trying to figure out why Jessica and Demetri and whoever else was in that damn hotel room were trying to make a sell for low-grade UV's. It doesn't make sense."

"People sell low-grade shit all the time," Paul pointed out. "Consumers wouldn't know the difference until after the fact. Usually, after a bust."

Benjamin nodded. "True."

"We're trying to find out if Gianna had any connections with the illegal arms-trade," Paul informed the agent. "We know she was in cahoots with the Volturi. She _was_ their receptionist, but she was also messing with Demetri."

"Who wasn't?" Benjamin remarked.

"The ladies' man," Jacob muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Leah did the same.

Paul snorted the detective's comment and continued, "She was there that night. Right there when the deal was going down. She would have _never_ been there without the Volturi's knowledge."

"Demetri went behind the Volturi's back?" Benjamin suggested with a shrug. "Not for nothing, he was a sleazy guy. A high ranking one. He had power, had discretion, and did I mention that he was a sleaze?"

Paul shook his head. "According to a source, the Volturi was very interested in the hotel deal," he said. After receiving confirmation from Leah, he continued, "Why? We don't know."

"I have to agree with Benjamin," Leah said. "it doesn't make sense. They were receiving low-grade UV's from those unidentified dealers. Even if this was an arms deal gone bad, I just don't understand how Jessica and Gianna were involved. Or why they were even there in the first place."

"Did they know that?" Jacob questioned, and then added, "Mike had mentioned something about Jessica being an 'incentive'. Maybe that's why Jessica and Gianna were there? Perhaps they were the incentives."

Leah grimaced at the thought of Jacob's implication. It was plausible but didn't mean she had to like it. "But she was working for the Volturi," she argued. "Well, Demetri, that night."

"Unless…" Benjamin brought a hand to his chin and began to rub it, pensive. "Unless, the Cullen's knew about it," and then," Hey, Leah, didn't you say Esme knew of Irina's tryst with Demetri?"

Leah nodded, then widened her eyes when the realization hit her. "She knows everything that goes on in that family and its associates. If she could find out about Irina, which couldn't have been easy…"

"Then, she must've known about Jessica," Jacob finished. "People were pissed off at Carlisle for parading Jessica around. People who were, and still are, loyal to Esme."

Paul pushed back his chair and crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed, "She probably had someone follow Jessica," he concluded. "That couldn't have been too hard of a task. Not to victim blame, but Jessica didn't seem to be champion of situational awareness."

Harsh but fair.

"Did Esme know Jessica was going to get killed that night?" Benjamin asked.

"Perhaps," Leah said, recalling her conversation with the Cullen matriarch (and now, acting boss) back in October. "She had she wasn't involved but did nothing to stop it."

"And just like that, this investing becomes even _more_ complicated," Jacob mumbled.

"I'll see what I can do," Benjamin promised. "Give me some more info on Gianna, and we'll run her through our systems again. And look more into the circumstances behind that Deal… and those unidentified dealers." He shook his head, expression troubled. "Something isn't adding up."

"You sure about that?" Paul asked. "It's more work for you guys."

Benjamin didn't seem too concerned. "The bullets came from the Velasquez cartel, who is my team's main focus right now," he explained. "This is just another piece to the puzzle." He took one last look at Gianna's profile, displayed on the captain's desk, and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll let you know if anything comes up."

* * *

"I can't thank you enough for this favor," Leah said one night, following the end of her shift. She was supposed to work overtime until the morning at Paul's request, along with Jacob, Embry, and Aisha to review some information provided by Benjamin. But her health came first. "I know I should've come last week, but with everything—"

Dr. Kim Lopez put a hand, silencing her patient. "Leah, it's fine," she said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "It if was a problem, I would've scheduled your appointment for a time after my trip to the Bahamas."

"You'll love it there," Leah said, rolling up her sleeves. "Definitely a lot warmer than here."

She had visited the group of islands once before, about eight years ago. Perhaps one of the happiest times in her life, she had thought at the time. Not only because of the beautiful sights and terrific, warm weather, but because she had spent time with the man who, at one time, was considered to be the love of Leah's life—it had been their honeymoon.

Kim gave Leah a thumbs up.

Leah let out a deep breath, feeling grateful, _lucky_ that she had Kim. The doctor, the veterinarian, didn't have to do this. She didn't have to stay at her practices, a couple of hours after the closing time.

"For the umpteenth time, it's not a problem," Kim insisted, silently prompting her patient to open for her mouth for the thermometer. "A friend of the pack is a friend of mine. Anyway, the last time I checked, there aren't official doctors for shapeshifters, and the _last thing_ you need is to see a general practitioner."

Leah wanted to pull the other woman into a hug, but instead remained in her place, patiently waited for the device in her mouth to beep. When the doctor redrew the thermometer, Leah smacked her mouth a couple of times before informing Kim, quite sincerely, that, "You're a godsend."

Kim smiled. "One hundred and eight," she read out, checking the thermometer. "Normal. Now, let's check your blood pressure."

To Leah's pleasant surprise, it was normal.

"Any significant life changes?"

"Going on more late-night runs with the guys. I'm able to keep up with the pace." She grinned to herself, feeling proud. "Plus, I'm seeing a therapist. Sure, I can't tell her _everything_, but it's better than nothing."

Kim hummed with approval as she filled out her patient's chart.

"I don't think I'll ever see her about being a shapeshifter," Leah continued. The thought had crossed her mind many times. Dr. Murad seemed like a reasonable person who wouldn't break the nondisclosure obligation. However, there was still a concern that, "She may have me instituted or hand-delivered to some secret government agency."

"Therapists have to abide by the same discretion rules as doctors," Kim reminded Leah. "And I'm sure she's heard crazier claims. Do you, at least, find the sessions somewhat helpful, despite the fact she can't reveal everything?"

"It's helping me hate Sam and Emily less," Leah admitted. "It's helping me—talking me out of—resigning from the police department because of this damn case."

"Glad to hear it," Kim said, and then, "Alright, how are you adjusting to your heightened senses?"

"I'm getting used to the sounds and tuning out unnecessary conversations. The smell—I went to a crime scene earlier in the week. At a landfill, the body was found partially decomposed." Leah grimaced, the stench from the dump still lingered in her memory. "It was _horrible_."

"Oh, I can imagine," Kim said. "Besides that?"

"I'll adjust."

"Eating habits?"

"Consistent," Leah replied, remembering the London broil she had inhaled last night for dinner. Jacob promised her that her over-eating would slow down as she adjusted to her body changes. That had been months ago. "I had a piece of chocolate, didn't throw it up, but her stomach wasn't too pleased with my decision."

"I know chocolate is wonderful, but so is your digestive health," Kim said with a slightly teasing tone, and then, more serious, "Period?"

"Normal."

Kim nodded. "And how are you during the full moon?"

"The same," Leah replied, letting out of a sigh of frustration. It was still the _same_. Five months had passed, and she was still going on runs with the boys—all phased into wolves except for _her_. Jacob, goodness bless him, had insisted to Leah _numerous_ times that her condition was normal. In the back of her mind, Leah knew her partner, her alpha, was right. But, "Is there any medical reason why I still can't transform?"

"Besides the fact that you're not ready?"

Leah gave the doctor a deadpanned look. She was starting to sound like Jacob. "That's considered a medical reason?" she asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

"Biologically speaking, you're still experiencing the throes of puberty. You know, there are some shapeshifters, the ones born with the ability, who aren't able to transform until they reach adulthood," Kim explained, echoing Jacob's words. "You were only bitten five months ago."

Leah groaned. "It feels like centuries ago."

"I know," Kim said, prompting Leah to lay back on the reclining chair. "I wouldn't worry about your wolf. If you weren't destined to become on, you would've died in those tunnels."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"Your captain informed me some an update about the Voldemort's never-ending investigation. Well, relatively good news. No one wants to find a partially decomposed body in the middle of a landfill. But it's about time we get a body. I'm almost tempted to treat myself to a cigar."

Leah shared the assistant state attorney's sentiment to a point. Discovering Gianna was a relief—no more speculation about her whereabouts'. They would be able to notify her grieving parents (minus the sordid details) as soon as Bella filled the official documentation. Gianna would finally be provided the burial she deserved.

"We don't have a suspect," Leah told the prosecutor. She appreciated the man's optimism, but there was still so _much_ to do. "Or the definitive circumstances surrounding Gianna's death."

The prosecutor's mood somewhat dampened. "But we have a body," he reasoned, waving his hand to the side. "This is probably the second-best news I've received today."

Jacob shared a curious look with Leah before asking, "Second?"

"Talked to HR, have three more years until retirement." Jenks' eyes sparkled with excitement and relief. "Nice pension and all."

"I know you can't wait," Leah remarked.

"Understatement of the century," Jacob said with a snort. "I have everything planned out, including my future tell-all."

"Join the club; everyone and their mom is writing a tell-all," Jacob informed Jenks with a slight smirk. "Keep this up, and we may have our own Netflix documentary."

"I'm honestly surprised we haven't been approached about that," Jenks said, voice now voided of amusement. "It's been over a year, and the media's still talking about the Dahlia case. Maybe because we don't have much to tell."

"We do," Leah argued. "It's just not public knowledge."

"Not much of a difference, Detective," Jenks said, and then, "Do you have anything on Gianna? Any potential suspects? Anything new regarding her relationship to Jessica Stanley?"

Leah retrieved a photographic copy of the crime scene and handed it to the prosecutor. "She was found inside a garbage bag, which tore as the sanitation works managed the piles of garbage."

"By the time she was found, her body was frozen solid," Jacob added. "Decomposition rate depended on the weather. So, we can safely assume that she had been out there for a while. Before the fall, maybe even before the summer… according to the folks at the morgue."

Jenks studied the page in his hand, face contorted in disgust and pity. "Estimated cause of death?"

"Up in the air," Leah said. "But we did find traces of her blood in the same hotel room Jessica was found in."

Jenks sighed and returned the photo. "And she was with Jessica?"

"She was right there when Jessica died," Leah said. "Witnessed the entire thing."

"According to the video?"

The detectives nodded.

"Which we can't submit into evidence without causing a supernatural uproar," Jenks commented with contempt. "There are times when I'm glad the general public doesn't know of the supernatural's existence. Less headache for me…" He sighed. "But now, isn't one of those times."

"We don't have to tell everyone the whole story," Jacob reasoned. "We can omit the whole biting part."

"And even that's not entirely revealing," Leah added. "We know the bite caused her death, but that's only because of the information that we have. Knowledge that, for obvious reasons, is not exactly admissible. There are many ways to die from cardiac arrest…"

Jacob nodded. "We can just say that she had a vampire-fetish, which isn't wrong."

"The problem with this case is the only person we can positively declare as a suspect is dead," Jenks said, rolling his eyes. "Which is only of the many reasons I'm still a little peeved about what happened to Mike—that was _supposed_ to be a slam dunk case."

The detectives remained quiet.

"As I said earlier," Jenks continued. "I'm glad we have a body, but until I have something _tangible_ to work with, I can't do a damn thing."

"We know," Leah said. "We only wanted to keep you in the loop."

"And we're looking for that tangible thing," Jacob added.

"Thanks."

"Any updates on the Deal?" Jacob asked.

Jenks gave the detectives a look of pure frustration. "Policy-makers are twiddling their thumbs," he said. "It's the government. Nothing's going to get done quickly unless it's to save some _important_ member of society's hide." He sighed. "Anything new come up relating to Mike's suicide?"

The detectives shook their heads.

Jenks slammed a fist, albeit gently, on his desk and cursed under his breath. Running a hand down his face, he groaned, "I'm getting pressured all sides to shut down the whole thing together. Let the feds handle everything."

Leah felt for the prosecutor. Everyone had been on him like white on rice since the October scandal that left a void in the Cook County justice system. But Leah couldn't give up on Mike. Jenks shouldn't give up on Mike. "You know that wasn't a suicide."

"Unless you got something good for me, that's going to be ruling next week," Jenks informed the detectives. The tone in his voice told Leah that he wasn't looking forward to the court's decision. "I don't make the rules, Detectives, just follow them."

"Can't find anything gray areas, counselor?" Jacob asked with a smirk.

Jenks puffed out his chest, eyes burning with defiance, "Of course, I can. How do you think I got this job?" he boasted, and then, "Oh, I see what you're trying to do. You're trying to have me get chewed by the mayor, the state attorney, the county executive, and the governor. Again."

"Yet you're still standing, counselor," Leah said. "Come on, Jenks, we only had four months to get to the bottom of Mike's death. You know this is a part of a bigger conspiracy. Can't you tell your bosses to hold out for a little while?"

Jenks gave Leah a look but eventually relented. "Have your captain draft a statement that can corroborate with mine," he advised. "Then, I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"It's been confirmed. The body officially belonged to Gianna Maria Castellano," Dr. Bella Swan told the detectives later that week. "Bittersweet," she added, handing over the copies of Gianna's records. "But at least, her death was quick: blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Shattered the skull into pieces."

"I guess we can notify the parents now," Jacob mumbled, sifting through the pages in his hands.

Leah nodded.

"I caught something that may be of interest," Bella carried on, "Injury, cuts, to the insides of her wrists. None of them defensive."

Leah glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "She was a cutter?"

Bella withdrew the white sheet and directed the detective's attention to the body part in question. "Lacerations on both wrists, made that night, but she didn't die from them. The bleeding stopped somehow," she explained. "The details are a little fuzzy, giving the state of decomposition, but there may be a bite mark around the area."

"Demetri was feeding on her," Leah concluded, looking at her partner for any once of agreement. With his arms crossed, Jacob gave a short nod.

"I thought they aim for the neck?" Bella asked.

"Feeding on a slit wrist, it's an aphrodisiac," Jacob said. "It's an old wives' tale. If you want to turn and/or feed to kill, you aim for the neck," and then, with a shrug. "They're fucking weird."

"Don't you wolves sniff each other's butts?" Bella tossed in, wiggling her eyebrows. "Now, that's weird."

Leah chuckled.

"Touché," Jacob said, then, "Any traces of sexual activity?"

"Inconclusive," Bella stated. "But didn't you guys say that Jessica and Demetri were _expressing_ their desires in front of Gianna? Maybe she joined in."

Leah stared down at the body, rubbing her chin. "So, the blood on the walls may have been the result of Gianna slitting her own wrists," she concluded. These people were a _mess_. "I suppose that does make sense."

* * *

Gianna had lived in Cicero, but she was born and raised in the Greektown section of Chicago, in an apartment above a print shop owned by the Castellano's. When the detectives arrived at the residence a couple of days after receiving confirmation from the coroners, the only occupant was Mrs. Castellano, Gianna's mother.

The older woman let the detectives inside her home without much fuss. She was grateful to see them, she told them. She had been trying to reach out to the Chicago Police Department for months regarding Gianna. Up until this morning, Mrs. Castellano hadn't heard a word.

When the detectives delivered the tragic news, Mrs. Castellano demonstrated subdued sadness. As if she had accepted her daughter's demise back in 2019, and now, she finally had confirmation. There was a sense of relief rolling off of her even while she stared out into the distance.

"Pardon my manners," Mrs. Castellano said eventually, standing up from the couch, expression blank. She brushed off some invisible dirt off her skirt. "Would you like something to drink? I have tea, coffee, even some cookies. All homemade."

The detectives agreed only to appease the woman who was trying her best to keep it together. She emerged from the kitchen minutes with a silver tray, set it down, and poured the coffee into three mugs. Taking her own cup, Mrs. Castellano retreated to her couch, took a long sip of her strong coffee, eyes shut before letting out a tired sigh.

Leah and Jacob waited for Mrs. Castellano to speak. The older woman picked up a picture from her daughter's graduation from the living room table. She clutched to the sides of the picture frame, staring down at it with eyes brimming with tears.

"She graduated at the top of her class, you know," she said quietly, smiling sadly. "She had received numerous job offers from the top firms—New York, L.A… There was even more from London, but she wanted to stay closer to home."

"We're so sorry," Leah said sincerely. She always hated this part of the job: informing someone of the death of a loved one, especially when the cause was unnatural. Each time reminded Leah of the look on Sue's face when the police had delivered the devastating news—Harry had ended his life inside a patrol car—and the sense of disbelief before the grief took over.

Twenty years had passed since that day, and the sadness never truly dissipated. It just became more bearable to handle.

Mrs. Castellano carefully placed the picture aside. "At least, you found her. At least now, we have peace of mind. Some finality."

"We're going everything we can to get to the bottom of her death," Jacob assured.

Mrs. Castellano seemed to have her doubts, not because she didn't have faith in the detectives; she didn't have confidence in the system or the evidence. Not that Leah could blame her; the system was far from perfect.

"How did she die?"

The detectives shared a look before Leah told the mother, "Blunt force trauma to the head."

"Accident?"

"We're treating it as a homicide," Jacob said.

Mrs. Castellano shifted her gaze from Jacob to Leah and back, perhaps to make sure that Jacob's words were true. Eventually, she swallowed and sat up her seat. "Where is she now?"

"The morgue," Leah said.

The grieving mother swallowed once again and gave a curt nod, slapping her lap. "I want to see her," she declared, not leaving any room for protests. "She deserves a good, Catholic burial. Interred in a cemetery, not waste away in a morgue. Will you take me there?"

Leah wouldn't dream of denying the other woman her wishes. "Of course."

Jacob nodded.

"Now, only if you don't mind," Mrs, Castellano rose from her seat. "Or at least, after you're done with your questioning. I assume you have some for me."

They did.

Leah and Jacob had prepared a series of questions back at the station. But now, Leah couldn't recall them, and based on the expression on Jacob's face, he was expecting her to make a move. She scanned the living room, making a note of all of the pictures of Gianna and a man who she assumed to be her father.

"Did Gianna like Chicago?" Leah asked, remembering that Gianna hadn't lived in her hometown since graduating from college.

Mrs. Castellano forced a smile. "You never know with her," she said. "Her mind changed every day."

Leah nodded and made a note of it.

"When was the last time you saw your daughter?" Jacob asked.

The woman took another loud sip of her drink. "I had spoken to her every day on the phone for the past few years. Ever since she moved out. The last time I've heard from her was back in mid-January. Of last year." Her gaze dropped to her lap. "The last time I heard her voice was on New Year's."

"And based on your conversation, did you notice anything concerning?" Leah asked, crossing her legs, leaning in a little. Her eyes were solely on the older woman, studying her every move and expression.

Mrs. Castellano let out a dry laugh. "I'm a mother, Detective Uley, I find everything concerning," and then, "From what I can remember, she said everything was fine. We discussed paying some bills—she was always generous with her money."

"On average, how much did she give you?" Jacob asked, practically reading his partner's mind. "If you don't mind telling us."

The woman tensed but didn't remain quiet, "About two grand a month, but I'll have you know that I never wanted that much." She let out a sigh. "Gianna could be stubborn like her father. She even paid for his New York trip that he's on right now… and our rent."

Two grand a month was a lot of money. Especially for someone who was supposedly on the bottom of the Volturi consulting firm totem pole. Leah jotted some information and went for the kill, "Mrs. Castellano, is there anyone who had it out for your daughter?"

"Who wanted her killed, you mean?" Mrs. Castellano finished her coffee. "Gianna had always been a pleasant girl. Everyone loved her. I don't know much about her friends, but from what she had told me, everything was _fine_… but she did usually keep to herself. Didn't like to tell us anything that would make us worry."

Jacob made a noise in his throat, low enough for Gianna's mother not to pick. But Leah heard it, and she knew he shared the same sentiment as her—Mrs. Castellano was either lying to them or had been in the dark this entire time.

"Did Gianna ever spoke to you about a young woman named Jessica Stanley?"

"No."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No," Mrs. Castellano repeated, adamant.

Leah pulled out a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket; she opened it and held it up for the other woman to see. "Do you recognize this man?"

Mrs. Castellano took the page and took a moment to study it. From the way she narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, Leah knew that she wasn't entirely ignorant about her daughter's life. "I've seen him a few times in passing," she said. "Gianna told me he was a friend from work. He'd pick her up sometimes to go to Happy Hour. Why do you ask?" Her eyes widened. "Do you think he did it?"

"We're simply covering all of our bases," Leah said, conveying no emotions. She didn't want the woman to make assumptions. "That's all."

"Do you have a name?" Jacob asked.

Mrs. Castellano studied the photo. "Dennis—no, Demetri," she said, nodding with confidence. "He's a charming, handsome young man. Gianna told me that he was the reason why she got the job at Napolitano's. She was a receptionist, you know. Made more money than me and husband combined."

_And that didn't seem suspicious_? Leah couldn't help but think. She cleared her throat. "Was this her only job?"

"Of course, it was a full-time job," Mrs. Castellano said. "A well-paying, full-time job. It's a very profitable consulting agency, I hear."

* * *

"She can't be that obtuse," Jacob whispered to Leah sometime later as they waited for Mrs. Castellano to gather her coat and purse. As promised, they were to take the grieving mother to the morgue so that she could claim her daughter's body."

"I don't think she is," Leah whispered back. "She may be in denial. No one wants to believe that their child's running with the wrong crowd. Especially if that child is now dead."

"I guess you're right."

Leah nodded and retrieved her personal phone from her inner coat pocket to check the time. She was met with a very important notification. "Oh."

"What is it?"

"A reminder," Leah said, swiping the notification to the left. "My court date."

"It's about that time, ain't it?"

"Looks that way, Detective Black," Leah mumbled, pocketing her phone. She looked straight ahead, where Mrs. Castellano stood, ready to leave. Back to her, she told herself. Her upcoming court date with Sam could wait. "One more week."

"One more week."

* * *

Sue told Leah the news later that night.

"What do you mean Emily's moving into _my_ apartment?" Leah asked through gritted teeth after nearly choked her a piece of beef jerky.

Technically speaking, the apartment in question wouldn't be under Leah's name after next week. But that wasn't the point. The apartment was hers (and Sam's) _now_.

"That's what Maria told me," Sue told her daughter, putting up both hands, directing blame her sister. "Shocking, I _know_." She poured two cups of hot tea and handed one to Leah. "Or perhaps not. She knows about you moving out."

Leah sighed. Yeah, she was moving out, officially handing the apartment over to Sam. She could've fought to stay since this whole episode _was_ her husband's fault, but she couldn't bear the thought of residing in a place that he had given her so much grief.

Until she found a new apartment, Leah would be staying at her mother's in Evanston, the city right above Chicago. It wasn't convenient for her commute (disregarding Jacob's insistence that he wouldn't mind picking up occasionally), but it would do wonders for her sanity.

"I guess that makes sense," Leah reasoned with hesitance. Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of Emily being in _her_ bedroom, moving around _her_ kitchen. Eventually, she relaxed her face and took a much-need sip of her green tea. She had to be logical about the situation—logic was the only thing preventing her from causing a scene. "I'm sure Aunt Maria loves Abel to death, but not enough to endure the never-ending crying. And Emily… you know, doing her thing."

The relationship between Maria and her daughter was complicated.

"Maria's moving back to Washington," Sue said. "She did offer Emily to come along, but your cousin said no."

Leah bit her and then asked, "She didn't tell her, did she?"

Sue shook her head. "As far as my sister knows, Emily received in vitro from an anonymous donor."

Leah couldn't believe her ear. She placed her mug down before she dropped it out of shock. "You've got to be shi-kidding me."

"Sadly, I'm not," Sue said, downing some tea. "I just found out this morning."

Leah groaned. "Mom…"

"I want to tell Maria so badly. After all, she's my sister," Sue said. "However, I don't think it's my story to tell. Maria deserves to hear the truth straight from her daughter." She shook her head. "I don't know what happened to Emily. She used to be… I don't know how one can make so many mistakes."

"Maybe she's waiting for a good time to tell everyone? Leah offered, flippant. She couldn't even be mad; Sam and Emily deserved each other—both clueless and incapable of communicating. "She's still with Sam who, until next week, is still married to me. They're moving in together so they can be a happy family. Thought they would find a new place…" she shrugged. "I guess not."

"Future birthday parties will surely be interesting," Sue mused. "Your aunt and uncle fully expect to be in that child's life." She let out a humorless chuckle, bringing a hand to her chest. "My goodness, I honestly feel sorry that little boy. Imagine what he has to go through when he gets older."

Leah whole-heartedly agreed.

* * *

Leah told Jacob the news the following morning while they both quickly ate their breakfast at their respective desks.

"Wow, that's bold. Even for them," Jacob remarked, chuckling, not at Leah but the entire situation. It seemed that each day brought a new, absurd update on his partner's failing marriage. "I thought they were taking it slow?"

"I guess one can't take it slow with a four-month-old crawling around," Leah said with a shrug. She took a bite of her artery-clogging steak, egg, and cheese sandwich. "So, now, I really have no choice but to stay at my mom's until I find a new place."

Jacob downed most of his coffee. "Where are you looking at?"

"Anywhere near the lake," Leah said, imaging talking early morning walks along the shores before enduring the rest of the day called life. She took another bite of her sandwich. "But here's the kicker: my aunt, Emily's mother, thinks Abel's father came from a sperm bank."

"_No_," Jacob said, bring a hand to his mouth. He then leaned over his side of the desk and asked in a whisper, "She didn't tell her own _mother_?"

"Nope."

He sat back up and shook his head, besides himself. "I don't know who's dumber, her or Sam."

"That's what I'm saying," Leah said. Her anger from the last before had been replaced by frustration and, surprisingly, pity. Leah honestly hoped for Abel's sake that his parents got their acts together.

Finishing her breakfast, Leah glanced over her computer, behind Jacob, and saw Embry rushing in her direction with Aisha following in tow, both seemed to be in jovial moods. _They must have found something_, Leah thought with a smile.

"Good morning to you, too," Jacob greeted when Embry reached him, and then with a teasing smirk, "And stop flailing, Call. It's not a good look on you."

Embry gave Jacob the finger, resulting in a laugh from everyone but the young cop. "_Anyway_," he said, waving around the disk in his hand. "We got the footage."

"You got footage?"

"We got the footage," Aisha confirmed, grinning. She sat on the edge of Leah's desk. "We talked to the workers who were all fully cooperative. They were able to provide us with security camera footage of that night."

"No warrant or subpoena needed," Embry added, injecting the disk into Jacob's computer. After engaging in a little lighthearted struggle with the detective, he was able to take over the entire desk with Jacob standing next to up, feigning annoyance. "You gotta see this."

"She was dumped around 2:00 am by three unidentified people, driving a black Escalade. Plates, illegible," Aisha explained as the video rolled on. "Unfortunately, everything happened in the middle of the night hence the bad light. It's not much, but—"

"It's something," Leah insisted, earning a nod from her partner. "Not much, but it's something."

"We now can confirm that she wasn't killed at the landfill," Jacob said. "It takes about forty-five minutes to get from LaPush to there… so we just need to find out what happened between the Dahlia's time of death and…" Furrowing his eyebrows, he rubbed his chin. "Midnight or one."

"Midnight or one?" Embry asked.

"Bella said that Gianna died a few hours after Jessica," Leah explained. She shifted through her piles of papers and handed the other cops a copy of the autopsy report. "Were you able to talk to the overnight crew?"

Aisha nodded. "That's how we got the video."

"They insisted they knew nothing about anything," Embry added. "I guess it's not too far-fetch. The landfill is pretty secluded in the middle of the night, and as you can see, not well-lit."

"This good," Jacob said, nodding. "Anything else? Social media? Friends?"

"Her Facebook account doesn't reveal much of anything, except a photo of her," Embry said. "She was like a damn ghost. We checked her phone records—nothing."

"She was particularly careful about not discussing Volturi-related information via electronic devices," Aisha explained. "Very meticulous."

"So, she knew some shit," Jacob concluded.

Aisha and Embry nodded.

"Well, she was Demetri's girlfriend," Leah pointed out. "She was known for luring unsuspected people into her lover's lair—"

"Was Jessica the only one of these unsuspected people found dead?" Aisha asked.

Everyone looked at each other for answers.

"Fuck, we didn't think about that," Jacob eventually said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. He looked in Leah's way. "Why didn't we think about that?"

"Because we have too much going on," Leah provided, and then, "Well, look into that, too. Hopefully, there _are_ some still alive. The victims are generally recruited in bars and clubs. Parties where humans drink blood with hopes of becoming a vampire."

Everyone gagged at the thought.

"Heard anything from Jane?" Aisha asked Leah.

"Yeah, I caught up with her a couple of nights ago," Leah pulled out her notes from the drawer and skimmed through them. "She wasn't entirely helpful this time around, but she did mention Gianna had inspirations to become a vampire. But it would have never happened. The Volturi isn't too fond of the very eager."

"Very eager people usually screw everything up," Jacob remarked. "Smart people are selective on who they turn," he added, glancing at his partner, expression indiscernible.

Leah didn't want to think about that comment, not right now.

"Any updates about getting the Volturi out of Moldova?" Embry asked.

Everyone shook their heads.

"Figures," Embry mumbled.

"Go on, Leah," Aisha said.

"Gianna started working at the firm four years ago, and I have a strong feeling she already knew what she was getting herself into. The Volturi is known for scaring the living daylights out of interviewees to weed out the job applicants. And all former employees, those who are still alive, abide by iron-clad NDA's."

"What did the Volturi see in her?" Aisha wondered.

"Nothing," Leah said. "But she managed to catch Demetri's eyes. Everyone assumed he would have his fun with the woman for a bit and then off her. Feed on her. But, as we all know, that didn't happen."

"Because Demetri liked her?" Embry offered. "I mean, she wasn't a bad looking girl. Wasn't she a beauty queen? According to her mother, she was friendly. Would talk to anyone in a drop of a dime. Real approachable—"

"A perfect person Demetri could use to lure the others in," Aisha finished.

"Got any theories about those guys in the video?" Embry asked Leah and Jacob. "And why was dumped there in the first place?"

Nothing new came to Leah's mind.

"I may have one, but I can't do anything about it until the end of the week," Jacob replied carefully, slightly frowned. He ignored Leah's curious gaze and stated, "I'll keep you two posted."

* * *

"So, what's your theory? Or plan?" Leah asked Jacob sometime later, long after Embry and Aisha left. She had considered brushing it aside and wait for the surprise, but Jacob had something in his sleeve. "And does it involve us engaging in a shootout with uncooperative vampires?"

"I know a guy," was Jacob simple's response. "And to answer your second question, no."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "You know a guy."

"Yeah, I know a guy."

Leah snorted at Jacob's completely unhelpful comment. "Are you going to tell me who this guy is?"

"Wilson. Jack Wilson."

Leah blinked. _Jack Wilson_ was such an ordinary name. There must be thousands with that name, possibly with that nickname, in this country, in the world. She knew a few "Jack Wilson's," but she doubted Jacob was talking about anything of them.

"Have I met him?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, but you will on Friday.

_But why not now_? Leah wondered, studied her partner's mannerisms. He didn't want to make meet up with the person but believed he had no choice. It was for the sake of the investigation—she could practically hear him dropping profanities left and right in his mind.

"Jacob—"

"Leah, do you trust me?"

The question caught Leah off guard. The last time he had asked her that question, like that, was back in September, moments before giving her the bite—she was alarmed but couldn't lie to the man. He'd see right through it and vice versa. "Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Jack Wilson. Per publicly available records: he was a black man, aged seventy-two, lived, and worked in Chicago. He moved from Tennessee with his family back in 1955. Served in Vietnam. Married with three children and seven grandchildren. Criminal history only revealed a petit larceny conviction back in 1972. A former amateur boxer turned small business owner.

"So, what's his deal?" Leah asked, closing Wilson's file. Nothing she could find on this Jack Wilson was alarming. His criminal record wasn't too impressive—he didn't even serve time for the theft conviction, had no glaring connections to the underworld, both human and supernatural.

"It'll make more sense if you see it for yourself," Jacob maintained.

Huffing, Leah gave her partner a side-eye before turning her attention to her passenger side now. They were traveling along the Westside in a neighborhood that wasn't the best, but also not the worst. "Can you at least tell me if he's human or not?"

"He's not," Jacob replied. "One of us."

"Oh."

Jacob made a noise in his throat as he pulled up to the curb. "We're here."

Leah checked her surroundings. Nothing stood out, just a row of stores, sitting below apartments and a McDonald's across the street. She looked to her right; the car was parked in front of "JW and Sons Bookstore". The business was small, and judging on the storefront, it was more of a secondhand bookstore than a condensed Barnes and Noble. Definitely not the place she had expected her partner to bring her two.

She raised an eyebrow and unbuckled her seatbelt. "A bookstore?"

"Looks can be deceiving."

"A front, then?"

"No," Jacob let out a sigh and exited the car. "Let me do the talking, yeah?"

Leah didn't object. There were many times when she had asked him to do the same thing. And based on what (little) she knew, it was best for Jacob to do most of the questioning. "Can I at least make comments?" she asked. "Promise I won't use profanity."

Jacob chuckled. "A cop not using profanity, that exists?" He locked the car. "Yeah, sure. No problem."

Leah mumbled her gratitude and looked up at the store in front of her. "So, what is this place?"

"You'll see."

* * *

There was only one person inside. An employee, Leah assumed, couldn't be any more than twenty-one. One of those scruffy-hipster types Sam used to complain about _all the time_ while Leah just tolerated them. He was bored, playing with his phone to past time until the sound of the chime, ringing from above the store door, caught his attention enough to remember that he was, indeed, at work. "Good morning," he said in a monotone voice, finally straightening up from his slouched position. "Welcome to JW—"

He froze when he locked eyes with the two newcomers. His eyes flickered from one detective to the other, alarmed to the point of panicking. The man didn't know her, but from the way his eyes widened in horror when they landed on Jacob—oh, they had undoubtedly met before. "We're closed," he quickly said, straightening up from his slouched position.

"The sign on the door suggests otherwise," Leah contested, pointing her thumb behind her.

"We're closed now—"

"Cut the B.S., Manny," Jacob snapped, causing the young man to jump and drop his phone from his hand and onto the sturdy glass display case. "I need to speak to your boss."

Manny gulped. "He's not here," he stammered, pulling at his uniform shirt collar.

Leah suppressed a snort. The man couldn't lie to save his life.

"Really, Manny? Really?" Jacob leered at the young man, causing him to tremble. "You don't think I can pick up his scent? He's upstairs, ain't he? Second room from the window. Eating."

"It'll make everyone's lives easier if you work with us," Leah added. She glanced at her partner when Manny huffed, now realizing that he was trapped. "One question?" she asked the other detective.

Jacob agreed.

Leah pulled out a small picture from her pocket and held it up, inches from Manny's face. "See her before?"

It was a picture of Jessica Stanley, during happier times. It was a bit off-topic since the detectives were technically here to speak about Gianna, but in truth, both murders were connected. Both murders were presumably committed by the same man. From Leah's experience, people who knew one woman tended to know about the other.

"Who hasn't?" Manny replied with a snort. "She's that from the hotel. Found all cut up in pieces."

"Ever seen her when she was _alive_?" Leah asked.

"Once or twice," Manny admitted, flinching from Leah's sharp eyes and Jacob's glare… daring him to lie. "I don't know _her_. We went to the same school, DePaul."

"How's school going anyway?" Jacob asked, flippantly.

"Fine," Manny bit out, glaring at the detective, and then, pointing at the staircase adjacent to him. "The old man's upstairs."

"Stay out of trouble, _Manuel_," Jacob said with a wink.

"Oh, go to Hell."

* * *

"You didn't say anything about climbing up three flights of rickety stairs," Leah complained as she followed her partner's lead, holding the staircase railing for her dear life.

Jacob laughed. "Leah, you're a wolf now. Three flights of stairs should be nothing for you," He glanced behind him, sticking out his tongue. "Increased stamina, and all."

"How very mature of you," Leah grumbled, rolling her eyes. "And shut up, I'm not talking about that. Three flights are nothing. It's the state of these damn stairs, I'm concerned about."

"If you fall, I'll make sure to catch you," Jacob teased. "Leah's, for heaven's sake, it's an old building."

"That should get _fixed_," Leah shot back.

"I'll make sure to let Jack know about your concerns."

"No—"

_"I heard you causing a commotion down there."_

Both detectives stopped in their tracks and looked up. A man was standing above, dressed in a simple business-casual ensemble. Remembering the contents of his profile, _This must but him_, Leah thought.

"Jack Wilson," Jacob called out, grinning. He waved his hand. "Sorry about the noise. Your only employee ain't the most welcoming—I thought you fired him?"

"I did, but I owe his mother… so, he's back," Wilson replied, not moving an inch until the detectives stood several feet in front of him. He was standing in the doorway of the well-lit apartment. "He's a good kid. With a mouth." He looked up at Jacob. "It's been a while."

"Yeah." Jacob jerked his head in the direction of his partner. "I don't believe you've met my partner, Detective Leah Uley."

Jack looked in Leah's direction and rose an eyebrow, curious, skeptical. He didn't trust her, Leah concluded, not that she could blame him. He knew of Jacob, but he certainly didn't know her—Jacob quickly caught onto the tense atmosphere and told the older man, "She's good."

Leah shifted her gaze from one man to the other, trying to understand what was happening between them. This wasn't just a simple, unexpected meeting. It was far more than she realized—the two men knew each other, not only by association. They must have known each other for years. Personally.

The older man's eyes narrowed, but then Jack backed off, lowering his guard. He dropped his formally squared shoulders and deeply breathed in… and then, out. "Ah," He gave Leah a once-over and remarked, "You're a new one."

Leah quickly checked with her partner, but he didn't seem too concerned. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're a new wolf," Wilson clarified with wonder and surprise. He directed his attention to the other detective, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were against turning humans? First, that captain with the anger issues, and now, _her_?"

Leah held her breath.

Jacob lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. "Shit happens."

"Shit happens," Wilson repeated with a slight nod, eyeing Jacob as if he knew there was much more to Leah's story. Thankfully, he made no more mention of it as he extended his hand to Leah, "I apologize if I came off a bit rude," he said, sincere. "Jack Wilson. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Relaxing in her stance, Leah s chook the man's hand. "Likewise."

Wilson smiled at Leah before gesturing the detectives to come into the space behind him. It was a studio turned offer, overlooking the busy street. Recently cleaned, Leah observed, based on the lingering smell of ammonia and bleach. Not anything to be alarmed about—Leah couldn't pick up anything potentially inflammatory.

It seemed Jacob couldn't either. His behavior caught Leah's interest. He was relaxed as ever, walking into a space seemingly familiar to him.

"So, is this a visit, or is this is a _visit_?" Wilson asked Jacob.

"Gotta pay the bills somehow," Jacob said, glancing at Leah. Locking eyes with her, he silently told her that everything was fine, and she could stop increasing her heart rate.

Leah cleared her throat.

"Ah, good, ol' bills," Wilson remarked with a slight smirk, and then asked, serious. "You need something on the side?"

"It's okay."

"Ah, still refusing to play on both sides," Wilson said, amazed. He must have seen many people navigating both sides of the law during his lifetime, Leah concluded. He wasn't disappointed by Jacob's rejection. "You're stronger than most, Black."

'I've seen the other side," Jacob said. "I ain't interested."

Leah raised an eyebrow—she had so many questions.

"A smart man learns from his mistakes. A wise man learns from others'."

"Yeah, something like that," Jacob said with a dismissive wave.

Wilson let out a light snort before offering the detectives a seat at the round table. Jacob took it without hesitance, followed by Leah. "Want something to drink?" the older man asked, moving behind detective towards the back of the room. He opened the door to the small fridge, sitting on top of a cabinet. "I have pop, water, and… nothing else."

"Water," Jacob requested, turning around to fetch the bottle of water tossed to from the other side of the room. He thanked the man before downing most of the drink.

Wilson looked Leah's way. "And you?"

Leah politely declined.

"How's business?" Jacob asked.

Wilson took a bottle of water for himself and sat down across from the detectives. After taking a gulp, he leaned against the back of his chair, eyes solely on Jacob. "Which one?"

"Oh, come on, as much as I love your antique bookstore, I know it's not the business bringing in the big bucks."

"I'll have you know that people will pay anything for antiques, including books. Do you know how much first edition science-fiction novels can sell for? Thousands, _each_. Not that the layman knows that," Wilson explained. "But I know you're not here to discuss the price of literary works…"

Jacob didn't dispute it. "So, how's _business_?"

And he wasn't talking about the bookstore.

"Interesting," Wilson admitted with a nod. "Not that I'm involved—"

"No, people just tell you everything."

Wilson smirked. "That, Black, is the true power of respect."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were out of the game?"

Leah held her tongue. Well, it appeared that Wilson's publicly available records didn't mention anything about _that_. Her eyes zeroed in on the man's inner wrists, marked with tattoos that she could have sworn she had seen before—how the hell did Jacob know him?

"Unfortunately, one can never be," Wilson said with a sigh. "I'm technically retired, but you know how it is…"

"They haven't touched you," Jacob argued. "Even after all these years, all the conversations you have with me, a goddamn member of CPD, and they haven't _touched_ you."

"I can say the same for you," Wilson said, giving Jacob a pointed look. "But I suppose the difference between you and me is…" He sighed. "I used to run with the boys, messing around, getting in trouble. One of these days, it's gonna come and bite. Just you watch."

"Pessimism gets you nowhere, old man."

"Old man," Wilson snorted, shaking his head, both fond and offended by the nickname. "You're lucky I don't hate you, Black." He took another sip of his water. "So, what are you _really_ here for, Detectives?"

Leah retrieved a copy of Gianna's picture and handed it to the older man, "Did you know her?"

Wilson picked up his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and put them on. He adjusted his glasses and held the picture closer to him for a better view. "That's the girl from the news," he said, handing it back to Leah. "Gianna Castellano."

"Did you know her?" Leah repeated.

Wilson shook his head. "The person? No."

"Have you seen her before?" Jacob asked. "Emphasis on _seen_."

"Everyone has."

Leah remained quiet as she listened intently to Jacob and Wilson's conversation. From what she was gathering, Wilson was linked to a shape-shifter version of the infamous, American Mafia-hit squad, Murder Inc. He was no longer intimately involved in the operations—he had retired a while ago without any drama—but he was still in the know.

She tried not to react to what she was hearing; she tried not to gawk, let her eyes widen or mouth drop. But _wow_—she could do this, though. After all, she wasn't some rookie detective; she had been in the game for quite some time.

"Did you boys kill her?" Jacob asked, staring at the older man straight in the eye.

Wilson could have lied, Leah thought. He should have lied. Jacob's question was inflammatory; he was more or less implicating Wilson and his associates for murder. Usually, suspects would be sputtering right now; the smart ones would have demanded a lawyer, but not Wilson—no, he was as cool as a cucumber, not once breaking from the detective's piercing gaze.

"We're not in the business of killing."

_Not Murder Inc., then_. Leah had heard of these "waste-management" businesses. The ones, for a hefty fee, who could let "waste" disappear without a trace. Most of the time, the workers didn't bump heads with the law; after all, they weren't in the business of killing… Leah started connecting the dots: Wilson and his friends knew of Jacob, which meant they most likely knew of Collin, the head of the Night Fangs. Perhaps some of the workers had joined the gang's ranks.

"The slaughterhouse murders suggest other," Leah challenged.

"We had nothing to do with that," Wilson insisted, sitting up in his seat. "Anyway, that incident solely involved the supernatural. Should have been none of your folks' concern."

Jacob disregarded Wilson's last comment. "You disposed of her body," he said. It wasn't a question—_He must have known who those men in the Escalade were_, Leah concluded. Probably the moment Aisha and Embry had shown them the footage. However, Jacob had made no mention of arresting anyone. Not even the man sitting across from them. Another Mike Newton, always toeing the legal line, but with more street cred and common sense.

"We had a job to do. That's all."

"So, she was dead by the time your friends came along?" Leah asked.

Wilson snorted. "I wouldn't call them my friends…"

"You know what she meant," Jacob interjected. "Well?"

"A nasty hit to the head," Wilson said, folding his hands on the table. "Don't know who did it. She was literally dropped off at our doorstep. Doubt it was a vampire, though. Body was still filled with blood."

"You didn't question it," Leah accused.

"Like I said, Detective: we have a job to do," Wilson said. "No questions asked."

Leah wasn't satisfied with the answer. "Since when you do work for the covens?"

"We don't work for them. We take contracts from everyone; species be damned," Wilson explained. "We're in the business of waste disposal. Everyone needs to throw out garbage, and we don't discriminate our customers."

"Even from leeches?" Jacob asked.

"Even from leeches," Wilson confirmed with a nod. "Leech money. Human money. Wolf money. Fairy money… still _money_."

"Why a landfill, though?" Leah wondered. "I assume your _associates_ have been in this business for quite a while and are good at what they do. Couldn't they find a better place? Like in the middle of Lake Michigan, tied down by a cinder block?"

"Oh,_ I_ would've been more discreet, but from what I hear, the instructions specifically mentioned not to."

Leah raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have those instructions?" Jacob asked.

"Instructions and receipts always get people in trouble," Wilson replied, offended that Jacob would ever ask such a question. "Burning evidence makes life easier."

Jacob nodded. "Smart man."

"Anything else you can tell us regarding this matter?" Leah asked.

"I've been following the Dahlia case since the beginning," Wilson said. "That's the good thing about retirement: you have a lot of free time. Even with the bookstore downstairs, no more sixteen-hour shifts for me." He rolled his shoulders and sighed. "A mess, ain't it? One dead girl and everyone spirals out of control. Bodies dropping are like flies. That incident in the tunnels…" He stopped to smirk. "You both didn't think I knew about that, did you? I know people.

Leah cleared her throat.

"Can't say I'm too surprised," Jacob said. "People talk, but we're gonna get to the bottom of it."

Wilson snorted. "Will you? And if you manage to pull this off, what will you have to show for it?" He wondered. "Sure, some people are out of the picture, but nothing much has changed. All that manpower, all that effort, for what?" He leaned forward, expression full of unwelcome pity. "All these initiatives, how that is that working for you?"

"Fine," Jacob gritted out.

"Fine," Wilson repeated. "Here's the thing about gangs: you can't eradicate them all. You take down one, and another one pops up. And usually, they're a lot worse. For example, you took out Victoria, right? And now, you have about five different gangs vying for her territory. No rules. No long-standing reputation. No respect. Human or not—it's all the same."

Leah pressed her lips together. She hated to admit it, but Wilson had a point. But she would like to think that things would change, one of these days.

"You expect us to do nothing, then?" Jacob challenged, raising his voice.

Wilson shook his head. "This isn't a criticism on your part. I've heard about both of your work—outstanding." He finished his water. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with this mess, truly am. I know you work on homicides. Solving crimes is what you do, but I know you weren't ready for _that_. My people didn't mean to cause you any inconvenience. You have to understand: it's just business."

"It always is."

* * *

"How do you know him?" Leah asked Jacob sometime later, minutes after finishing their interview with Jack Wilson. The meeting, though not bombshell-worthy, did provide some insight into how Gianna got to the landfill... as well, on a personal level, Jacob's connection those involved.

"He's a family friend," Jacob eventually said, putting on his seat belt. He inserted the key into the ignition, but only to turn the heat on.

"Knew him practically all my life. He's been through some things, but he ain't that bad."

"Oh."

"My family..." Jacob trailed off, eyes focus on the street ahead. His expression was blank, or maybe it was him, trying to keep it together. Leah considered withdrawing the topic altogether, but before she could make her move, Jacob continued, 'Knew people. Worked for people." He sighed. "Not the _best _people."

Leah swallowed, trying to digest the information. Jacob's family had connections- surprise notwithstanding, the revelation did explain a lot. For instance, Jacob's intimate knowledge of the supernatural underworld and its dynamics. Shit, he probably knew more about the topic than the feds and their affiliated academics.

"Was Wilson a member of the Night Fangs?" Leah asked. There wasn't an explicit mention of the older man's affiliation with the gang, but based on their earlier conversation, it was pretty much implied.

Jacob nodded. "His brother, along with my uncle, founded it back in the seventies. My dad was a part of the crew... It was supposed to be a brotherhood of some sort, nothing crazy, nothing _illegal_-"

"Like the Sons of Anarchy?"

Jacob's frown morphed into a small smile. "Ain't that a good show?" His smile then dropped. "Yeah, like the Sons, but for shapeshifters, and they pretty racially diverse, I guess. Mostly Native and Black, though. There were a few from Samoa— and there was this white guy, but they ran him out."

"Because he was white?"

Jacob shrugged, obviously not wanting to expand on it.

"So, what happens now? We arrest the Fangs? Those who disposed of Gianna?"

"We can't exactly do that. Not now," Jacob said, not pleased about the situation, but also not in the mood to bump heads with the higher powers. "Martinez is working on them, at least, those in Chicago. But they're not... they're not the ones Jack was talking about. They're based in Saint Louis, and won't step foot within those city limits until the heat dies down."

"They're smart."

"Yeah, but everyone's bound to mess up sometime."

"And what about Wilson?" Leah asked. "What he just told us, that's gold. We can go to Jenks—"

"Jack's word is gold," Jacob interjected. "But the defense will unless Hell on him, and us, during cross-examination.'

Leah frowned. "He's not a reliable witness."

"According to the law, he's not."

"So, are we going to simply wait it out?"

"Like I said, everyone's bound to mess up some time," Jacob said, confident. "But what we really need to do is find out who issued that contract."

"The contract?" Leah blinked. "I thought we've decided that the Brotherhood of Night Fangs didn't kill her?"

"Contracts aren't only used for hits," Jacob explained. "If you want a job done, any job, there has to be a contract. No one can only go by another's word. That shit gets you in trouble."

Leah sighed. Her partner had a point. "The Brotherhood, is it a pack?"

Jacob placed both hands on the steering wheel and squeezed. "It's complicated," he eventually replied.

That wasn't a definite answer. Leah huffed before tossing a stick of gum into her mouth. She offered Jacob one, but he declined. "So," she began, slightly changing topics," Your family's in the Fangs-"

"Not all," Jacob insisted vehemently. "Some."

"Some," Leah confirmed. "Including your cousin and your father." She bit her lip, released it, and then asked, very curious. "How the hell did they let you become a cop?"  
Jacob let out a harsh breath. "My dad made a deal, and they respected it."

"And what about now? We're assigned to a unit that's investigating them," Leah pointed out. "They're just going to let it happen, let you off the hook?"

"Didn't you hear what the old man said?" Jacob turned on the car and set the gear. "It's just business."

_It's just business_—such a clichéd, but very accurate saying. The phrase was generally applied to life on the other side of the law, a popular saying used by gangsters and dealers who made unpopular choices all for the love of the money (and reputation). The phrase could also apply to work. The bureaucracy was stifling, and then, there was still that damn Deal.

"It's just business," Leah repeated with a frown. "Is that why Wilson asked you about doing something on the side?"

"Of course," Jacob admitted with a shrug, nonchalant. This must not have been the first time he had received such an offer. "I'm a cop— Look, there's nothing you gotta worry about. I wasn't about that life when I was a kid, and I'm certainly not about it now."

"Why are you telling me this?" Leah asked, taken Jacob aback. She wasn't accusing him of anything; she was only curious and admittedly puzzled. She had a sinking feeling that the main purpose of the meeting hadn't been Gianna. "You didn't..." she paused to gather her words. "You didn't have to bring me here, introduce me to Jack." She dropped her gaze. "Tell me about your family."

"Leah, we're partners," Jacob sighed. "He's a source—"

"You don't come with me when I meet with Jane," Leah argued. "Not that..." She sighed. "We both have our sources, procured by our own. I just..."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You _know_ what I'm trying to say," Leah retorted, and then, in a softer tone, "This is something you just don't tell everyone."

Jacob locked eyes with hers. "You're not everyone."

It was then when Leah realized the following- her trusted her, far more than she had anticipated. Just as much as she trusted. Which, based on the incident in the tunnels, was with her life.

Leah didn't know how she should feel about this.

* * *

Leah checked her watch—11:47pm.

Shivering, she rubbed her hands together, wishing she was home, under her soft and _warm_ covers. Not here, in the middle of Sag Valley Forest, surrounded without about for inches of snow, dressed in nothing both a sweater, thick leggings, a hat, and gloves.

Goodness, she needed a pair of boots and a heavy-duty coat, but bulky clothes wouldn't be feasible tonight; she needed to be able to move, be flexible—She glanced to her right where the rest of the pack stood, all wolves, all seemingly warm. _Damn them and their fur_, Leah grumbled. Lucky Bastards.

At least, she could admire her surroundings. Thanks to the snow and the light from the full moon, the forest resembled a winter wonderland.

Oh, right—the full moon.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Quill, now at her side, observing her through soft eyes. Giving him a small smile, Leah ran her fingers along his pelt, concentrating around the neck. Her smile grew as the wolf, wagging his tail, emitted a satisfying growl. The ministrations were over as soon as they began, with Jacob howling, indicating that it was time to get on the move.

She looked up, locking eyes with the moon, challenging it to do something. Force something that would bring out the wolf in her. But, like many times before, nothing would come except for heightened senses and unbelievable drive to move.

Sighing, Leah knelt to tightened her shoelaces. It'll _come_, she told her herself, pushing down her disappointment. She stood and clapped her hands. She didn't have time to wallow; due to the nature of tonight's run, time was of the essence. The pack needed to hunt and feed before three a.m.; that would give them enough time to leave before the park rangers arrived for their early shift.

Tonight wouldn't be the first time Leah accompanied the rest of the pack during a hunt. Despite her insistence that her presence wasn't necessary (for obvious reasons), Jacob would always invite her. _Watch and learn_, he would tell her. And she would. Watching the wolves hunt was still a sight to see. Even now, Leah couldn't believe that those wolves were only grown men a short time before.

But there was one thing that Leah had noticed and found amusing. Despite no physical traces of their former solves could be seen during these nights, their personalities still remained—Jacob would lead the pack, all serious, generally making the first move. He preferred aiming for the neck for a quick death, but there were times, especially when bears were involved, that one bite wasn't enough. Always wanting a piece of the action, Paul would soon join in; his moves were more dramatic (violent) and messier than Jacob's. Embry and Jared would tease and squabble until Jacob and Paul growled at them to get their acts together while Quill would later join once tensions dissipated.

Usually, Leah would love the wolves to their own devices. They didn't need her assistance, not that she could provide much besides a shooting a bullet. Which was the last thing anyone needed at that time at night; being discreet was vital.

Tonight, wolves' target was a pack of deer, all roaming around the near-frozen creek.

The attack was quick. Before Leah could process everything, three deer were down with the wolves all over them, tearing at the flesh. While the other wolves tried to fight for dominance, Jacob ferociously tore a medium-sized slab from the side of the largest deer. With it lodged between his teeth, he approached Leah, ignoring the curious looks from the pack. Soon enough, Jacob gently planted the meat at Leah's feet and looked up at the woman expectantly with traces of pride.

Puzzled, Leah dropped her gaze, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the bloodied mound, still attached to its pelt. Leah slowly looked up, locking eyes with Jacob, confused with the wolf (or man's) intentions. She would get her answer soon enough as Jacob emitted a low growl and, using his snout, pushed the meat forward—_Oh_, she realized, amazed. He wanted her to eat it.

He was giving her an offering.

Leah swallowed. Never having consumed raw deer venison, especially at _this_ state, Leah wanted to turn Jacob down, but in the back of her mind, she knew this development, of some sort, was significant—Ultimately, she suppressed apprehension the churning in her stomach, picked up the slab, thanked the wolf in front of her and took a bite.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

"So, this is it."

Those were the words that came from the man Leah had once called her husband. The very man who was standing a few feet in front of her, frowning at the divorce certificate in his hand. Sam wasn't annoyed or irritated, perhaps only upset at how this drama-filled saga ended. He was resigned to the fact that his marriage was officially over, and now, he had to move on. Leah had to move on.

Leah fought a grin.

The divorce hearing from fifteen minutes before had been anticlimactic, only taken about an hour. Leah had fully expected Emily and her infuriating friends to make a reality-show appearance, but Sam had informed her that after much convincing, Emily had promised to keep her distance. _It was a good move_, Leah thought. Emily's absence had severely decreased the changes of Leah being charged with assault for launching at her back-stabbing cousin.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Leah said, eyes on the divorce certificate in her hand. Such a simple piece of paper, but at this moment, it was the most important thing she had her possession. She was now divorced, legally no longer bond to another under the law. She was now free.

She was so grateful she wanted to cry.

Sam took a step forward. He cleared this throat. "Leah, I—"

Leah put up a hand, effectively cutting off the man. For the first time in over a year, she didn't want to hear an apology. All she wanted to do was leave all of the bullshit behind and move on with her life. "As you said, this is it. No more looking back. Okay?"

Sam gulped. "Okay," he quietly said with a nod.

Silence fell between the former spouses, both looking at anything, anyone but the person in front of them. Ultimately, Leah broke the silence. "How does it feel working in a normal homicide unit again?"

"A blessing," Sam replied, honest. "The captain's decent, and I don't mind my new partner. Currently juggling a few cases, but nothing compared to I had to deal with in the Voldemort Unit. _Nothing_."

"Glad to hear that."

"And you?"

"Same shit, different day," Leah shrugged. "One of these days, we'll get to the bottom of his hot mess of an investigation."

"It'll come," Sam said, sincere.

"I sure hope so."

"So…" Sam trailed off. He forced a smile. "See you around?"

Leah nodded. "Yeah, sure." She considered saying more, adding something more profound, but nothing came to mind. She was too mentally and emotionally exhausted to come up with something witty, the _last word_. Instead, she reached out to pat Sam's shoulder. "Good look with everything."

Sam swallowed. "You, too."

* * *

Leah was now a divorcee.

After eight long years, she was a single woman.

She relieved was no longer had to agonize over a marriage that spiritually ended in 2015, glad that Sam and the mother with his child were finally out of her—but to her utmost surprise, she was exactly jumping for joy.

During the days leading up to the divorce hearing, Leah could remember dreaming about prancing out of the courthouse, waving around her divorce certificate with a blinding grin.

But that didn't happen.

"It'll take time," she told herself as she parked in front of her mother's house. She had been divorced for only a couple of hours. "Now, let's go."

Determined, Leah tapped on the steering wheel, grabbed her eyes, and exited her car. She could see her mother in the distance, standing at the front door, wrapped in a blanket. Sue watched her daughter intently as she approached her home.

"How did it go?" Sue greeted, her eyes roaming her daughter's face in search for an answer.

Leah pulled the certificate from her purse and handed it to her mother beside silently heading inside the house. After shutting the door, Sue followed close by, staring in awe at the piece of paper in her hand. "It's over," she breathed out, bringing a hand to her chest. She was relieved, thrilled, and almost at the brink of tears. "It's finally over."

Sue placed the certificate on the small table beside her and drew her daughter into a hug. "It's for the best," she whispered, giving Leah a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I know it's though now, but it's a blessing, and it will get better. You'll

Leah inhaled deeply, taking in her mother's wonderful, welcoming, and soothing scent. "I know," she mumbled into Sue's shoulder. Her arms tightened the hold around her mother's torso. It had been a while since she had allowed someone to do this.

Eventually, giving Leah a warm smile, Sue freed herself from Leah. "You can live your own life now," she declared, cupping her daughter's cheeks with her hands. "And Sam can live his with Emily and little, precious Abel."

* * *

Leah visited HR the next day.

"Do you want to officially be known as Detective Leah Clearwater or still as Detective Leah Uley?" asked the HR representative after Leah presented her divorce certificate. "Congratulations on the divorce, by the way."

"Thank you, Lucille, and Clearwater," Leah replied, waiting for, she didn't know, a reaction. She wasn't expecting any fanfare from the HR representative, but she would have liked to see anything besides a blank expression. This moment might be no important to the seasoned employee in front of her, but it damn well was for Leah—She patiently as Lucille quickly filled out the form on the computer.

"I thought about keeping it," she carried on, not caring if anyone listened. Perhaps Lucille did; she didn't provide any feedback but did raise an eyebrow. "Even before this mess… I couldn't tell you how many times people would mix me up with my ex-husband. Who is also a detective, you know."

"Sam Uley," Lucille said, nodding. "I know him."

"Well, he's now the only Detective Uley in the force."

Lucille smirked. "Detective Leah Clearwater, it is."

* * *

"You're not allowed to think about work tonight," Aisha informed Leah a week later as she waited for her oatmeal to heat up. They were both in the station's break room, taking an early-morning break. "You're going to enjoy yourself. You're going to drink some of that wolf-bane moonshine, but not enough to embarrass yourself. And we're going to _celebrate_."

"I can't believe you're throwing me a divorce party."

Leah couldn't believe she was _letting_ the other detective do so.

Aisha snorted. "Honey, if you're surprised about me throwing this party, then obviously you don't know me very well." She gave her friend a wink. "Anyway, you deserve it. Heck, we _all_ deserve it, including Jacob—now, he no longer has to play therapist during your wonderful car rides to crime scenes."

Leah still felt terrible about that, despite Jacob's insistence that she never had to apologize to him. _Venting is good for the soul_, he had told her numerous times. "I need new friends."

"Leah, you love us, and you know it."

Leah didn't dispute it. Instead, she tore open a couple of sugar packets and dumped the contents into her lackluster cup of coffee. She wasn't excited about the drink, but it was negative-whatever outside. She was in no mood to leave the station unless she had to. "Where the hell does one get wolf-bane moonshine anyway?"

"Paul has a friend," Aisha replied, flippant.

That was all Leah needed to know.

"_Oh, God_."

"Understandable reaction," Aisha admitted, leading her friend out of the breakroom. "But Quill swears by it. He seems to be the most calm, rational member of your little pack. Doesn't try to get himself killed every five seconds by playing the hero." She gave Leah a pointed look. "So, naturally, I trust his judgment."

Leah rolled her eyes. "I'm rational. I can be calm," she argued. She couldn't even recall the last time she had cursed someone out. That, friends, was progress. "I don't live my life on the edge."

"Shall we discuss _why_ you need to have wolf-bane with moonshine?"

Leah averted her gaze. "No."

"Didn't think so."

* * *

"I can't believe you're letting Aisha throw you a divorce party," Jacob remarked as he and Leah rushed to complete their overdue reports before taking a late lunch. The reports were technically due last week, but thankfully Paul had been too occupied intimidating the hell out of rookies (who had foolishly decided to be snarky on their first day) to notice.

"I thought about protesting," Leah said, feverishly typing along. Three reports down, three more to go. "But then I wisely realized it wouldn't have been worth it."

Jacob let out a short laugh. "Cross benefit analysis at work."

Leah smiled. "Yep, but it's cool," she insisted. "I need a night out. Need to unwind, even if it's at Quill's."

"You sure you don't want a different venue?" Jacob asked before downing his third coffee of the day. The detectives were supposed to be on a caffeine-cleanse, but then work happened. "I mean, Quill's is Quill's, but Quill's is _Quill's_. We've been there more times than I can count."

"Yeah, but it's the only place when we can have WB-laced beer without people's freaking out," Leah pointed. "The location makes more sense. I plan to have drinks and actually _feel_ the effects."

"I hope you don't plan on driving."

"Of course not, you're going to be my designated driver," Leah replied with a smirk.

Jacob tossed his hands up, feigning annoyance. "Oh, c'mon, really?"

"Hey, I'm the one who just got divorced. I deserve a designated driver, damn it," Leah declared, slapping the desk. "Anyway, you should be proud of me. I'm being a responsible citizen. No drinking and driving for me."

"We appreciate your awareness of the law," Jacob said with sarcasm, but couldn't fight a grin. "You can't take an Uber? A Lyft? Old-fashioned cab?"

Leah leaned over. Her smirk widened. "Why pay for something I can get for _free_?"

Jacob let out a hearty laugh. "Like the way you think, Detective."

Proud, Leah sat back up and returned to work.

"Oh my god," Embry groaned, scrunching up his nose as he approached the discussion. "You two have officially entered the double-entendre phase of your partnership." He gagged. "Shoot me now, and get a damn room."

Leah rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, man, don't have any silver bullets on me," Jacob joked before mouthing thanks to the younger cop for Gianna's case files. "And fooling around on the job is strictly discouraged."

"No need to be jealous, Embry," Leah then taunted, leaning back on her chair with her hands behind her head. "You wouldn't want to be stuck with Jacob anyway—he fed me a piece of raw deer meat for a late-night snack. With the fur _attached,_ bloodied and all. Didn't have the decency to clean the damn thing," She turned her attention to her partner. "You know, you could have dumped it the stream, clean it off a bit. Not all of the water was frozen."

Embry laughed.

"Okay, first of all, I was in a different state of mind that night. Second, that was a week ago. It's time to get over it," Jacob argued, sitting up in his seat. "And lastly, you ate it. All of it, if I remember correctly. You even asked for more."

"No, I did not," Leah contested. She remembered devouring it and being pleasantly surprised by her digestive system's lack of reaction. "Next time we go on a hunt, can you choose, I don't know, a farm? I prefer to eat a cow rather than a deer."

Embry shrugged. "Huh, I'm good either way."

"When you turn, you won't even know the difference," Jacob promised, adding a wink.

"When?" Leah snorted. "You mean, _if_."

"You lack of faith wounds me," Jacob said, dramatically clutching his chest.

Leah rolled her eyes.

* * *

Leah didn't know how much she needed this party until she stepped foot into Quill's bar with her little (and perhaps, too much excited) brother tagging along. Tonight, she would have an opportunity to relax, have drinks and fun with people she didn't hate. Plus, if everything worked out, she would be home at a decent time (Much to Leah's eternal relief, Aisha had finally given up on the idea to visit a strip club).

The bar was pretty packed by the time Leah arrived, about a half an hour before the party was supposed to start, with a group of sports fans yelling at the Blackhawks' game one end and a bachelor/bachelorette party happening on the other. Leah's event would be happening towards the center of the establishment, closest to the bar, thankfully. At first glance, it appeared that Aisha abided by her friend's wishes and only had invited about twenty people, mostly from work. It was enough and perfect.

(The amateur party planner had offered inviting family, but Leah strongly protested it. She didn't need her mother here; Seth was enough.)

After exchanging pleasantries with the guests, Leah noticed a familiar face, sitting at the bar, ordering a drink. Grinning, she called out, "Dr. Swan!"

Bella turned around, grinned, and waved. When Leah reached her side, she said, "Good evening, Detective—is it Clearwater, now?"

Leah pulled the other woman into a quick hug. "Made it official last week," she declared. "Glad you were able to make it."

To the utmost surprise of both women, Leah's and Bella's relationship has significantly improved over the last few months. Leah had to admit: it was nice being on good terms with the other woman. She wasn't as insufferable as she had been in the past, and she was sure that the sentiment was returned.

"Me too," Bella replied before mouthing a 'thanks' to Quill. She handed him some cash. "I hear Paul has two kegs of moonshine. One for us, mere humans and one for… not mere humans." She shared a chuckle with Leah. "I thought about giving it a shot, but then, I remembered I have a conference to attend in the morning…" She shook her head. "We don't need to add to our _glorious_ reputation."

"You got that right," Leah agreed, referencing her own agency. She hopped onto a stool and ordered a wolfbane-free beer. "How's work?"

"_Work_." Bella snorted. "You haven't been visiting up as of late? No longer need us?" She let out a dramatic sigh. "I'm truly hurt."

"Were always going to need the Office of the Medical Examiner," Leah insisted. After all, this was Chicago. "How's everything with… you know?"

"Banner says we may get some more staff. Especially after last Fall's debacle."

The Office of the Medical Examiner was hit hard by last year's public corruption investigation. Over a dozen of its employees were either convinced to find another job or were fired because of their convictions. For the most part, the charges weren't as bad as those given to the cops, but they did no favors to the morgue's reputation—Selling blood from freshly-deceased humans to the black market was not exactly legal.

"That's good, at least. How's morale?"

Bella sighed. "Down the drain."

"How's Eric? I know some of those arrested with his buddies."

"He's finally seen the light. Now, he's just as jaded as the rest of us, government employees."

Leah nodded and glanced at the scene behind her—There was Eric, sitting at one of the tables with Seth and Jared, all of which were arguing quite passionately about the last season of Game of Thrones, flailing arms, pointed fingers and all. Despite the theatrics, the men were enjoying themselves.

"Still thinking about leaving?" Leah asked, returning to her attention to Bella.

"I've thought about it," Bella admitted, staring at her beer. "I've thought about it hard, but you know when you're driving, and there's car wreck on the side of the road… you should be driving right along, especially if help's arrived, but you just can't _leave_?" She shook her head. "That's how I feel."

"That's deep."

"That's life."

"Ain't that the truth."

"But enough about me and work." Bella clapped. "This is your party," She patted Leah's shoulder. "So, how are you feeling, Miss Clearwater?"

Leah closed her eyes and breathed in. "I have to get used to people calling me that," she admitted but with a smile. She opened her eyes. "I'm good. Have to make some adjustments, but no complaints."

"Good..." Bella trailed off as she looked around the bar. "I have to admit, I was expecting to see some strippers around here…"

Leah snorted. "I had to draw the line at that suggestion."

"It's for the best."

"Yes, it is."

Leah and Bella shared a laugh.

"I can't believe you let Aisha throw you a divorce party."

"I thought about fighting it, but after a while, I finally accepted that Aisha wouldn't give a damn about my wishes," Leah said, fondly shaking her head. "I think she's trying to make up for the bachelorette party I didn't have."

"Why didn't you?"

"Bad timing," Leah sighed. "The Petrescu case."

"Ah." Bella nodded and took a swig of her beer. "Yes, I remember that case. I was still in Forks at the time, but I do remember hearing about the case on the news. You guys were swamped, huh?"

"Not to the level of Saint Patrick's, but yeah, it was pretty bad."

* * *

Leah eventually left Bella to her own devices (devices being a handsome patron who had been checking her out for some time) and headed to where Paul, her boss, her _captain_, was standing, right next to the bar between two kegs. One was marked "WB" and the other, "No-WB". The alcohol was really for the guests, but for a small fee which apparently, Quill had approved of, the other patrons could get a taste as well—Leah wondered if they had to sign a waiver.

"Where did you get it from?" Leah asked, eyeing the kegs.

With his arms crossed, Paul glanced at both barrels and shrugged. "I got a friend down in Kentucky."

"Is it _legal_?"

Paul smirked. "Define legal."

Leah narrowed her eyes, not knowing if the captain was messing with her or not. "Is it safe?"

For a split second, Paul looked almost affronted that his detective had to ask such a question. But in Paul's typical fashion, his smirk returned. "Sure," he replied, nonchalant. "I haven't died from it."

It was a response that gave Leah much confidence. Paul's tolerance of wolf-bane was just as good, if not more, than Jacob's. She stared at the kegs, weighing her (life) choices, but then—Well, _shit_.

"Hit me."

Paul tapped the wolfbane barrel and winked. "You won't regret it," he promised. He poured two shots of moonshine and handed one to Leah before lifting his own. "To Detective Leah Clearwater!"

"To Detective Leah Clearwater."

Tossing their heads back, the cops quickly downed the shots. Paul, that bastard, seemed completely unaffected, but Leah… her eyes widened in shock and horror as the liquid burned down her throat. She slammed the glass on the table and let out a series of coughs before glaring up at the captain. "_Holy_—that's strong."

"Wolf-bane moonshine, baby," Paul drawled out, rubbing his keg with adoration. "Now, don't take too many shots," he warned. "I ain't trying to have Jacob kick my ass. Well, attempt to, that is."

* * *

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Believe it or not, I am," Leah said. She glanced at the scene behind her. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, as well. "Thank you for this, Aisha. I really mean it."

"It's the least I can do. Your divorce needs to be celebrated," Aisha said. "Now, you don't worry about featuring on an episode of Maury with Sam, Emily, and their baby… who is _absolutely_ adorable, by the way."

Leah cupped her cheeks. "Isn't he?" she cooed. Despite her personal feelings towards the child's parents, Leah could never harbor any negative feelings towards the baby. He was just so precious.

"Did Emily ever tell her mother, your aunt, the truth?"

Leah dropped her hands and shook her head. "She better pray Abel doesn't resemble Sam when he gets older, that's what I have to say." She ingested some more moonshine, making not finishing it yet, and slammed the glass on the table, harder than intended. "Emily has to tell her mom eventually. I mean, what she's gonna do for her son's birthdays? Make sure Sam isn't there? Make sure her parents aren't there? What about graduation?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about," Aisha said. She placed a comforting hand over Leah's, squeezing it. "They're not your problem anymore."

"You got that right, but I'm still going to be dragged into that mess. Their affair was the reason why I demanded a divorce. My family's gonna connect the dots eventually."

"You should tell them. They should hear it from you, first before shit hits the fan."

Leah sighed—she should have _told_ them. Sue and Seth were the only members of Leah's family, who knew the true reason behind her failed marriage.

She stared down at her second shot of the wolfbane infused moonshine. Perhaps, against her better judgment, but Leah wanted to see if she down the drink without her throat protested. Maybe it was the stubbornness in her—but at least, her facilities were still functioning. That was a major plus.

"I will," she promised before finishing the rest of the drink.

* * *

No party at Quill's was complete without a high-stakes card game.

Leah had pulled expected something more mature, like Poker, but after much deliberation, UNO was chosen. Quill just happened to have a deck lying around, and everyone just happened to know the rules and understand how intense the traditionally children's game could become in the right environment.

Seven people—Leah, Jacob, Seth, Martinez, Jared, and Embry—joined the game with Paul being the card dealer (and referee). Everyone else was standing around, waiting for the excitement to unfold.

"Here are the rules: no alliances. And audience, keep your strategies to yourself," Paul said, staring down at everyone as if in the middle of a briefing. "Once again: _no cheating_. If I even think you're cheating, you're out. No questions asked, and no, you're not getting your money back. The winner of three rounds gets the pot. If there's a tie, we'll have a final round to determine who takes it all. Got it?"

"Pretty intense for a kid's game," Embry remarked.

"Five hundred dollars are at stake, soon-to-be Detective," Paul said, and then clapped. "Alright, you idiots ready?"

"Bring it!" Jared declared, slapping a fist on the table.

"I hope you're ready to give me all of your money," Leah boasted, rubbing her hands together. She was feeling fortunate tonight, but it could also be Paul's special moonshine talking. "UNO bows down to _me_. Ask Jacob."

All eyes were on Jacob.

"Okay, that was one time," Jacob argued. "Okay? _One_. I admit I was a bit rusty then, but now, I'm back. That five hundred dollars is mine."

Leah winked at him.

He gave her the finger.

Leah laughed.

"No peeking until everyone has seven cards," Paul demanded, dealing the cards. When he finished, he placed the remaining deck in the middle of the round table. "Alright, you can now look at your hands."

Everyone did.

Jacob snickered as he moved around the cards in his hand.

Leah raised an eyebrow. Oh, Jacob was confident—she needed to watch out for that. She looked down at her own hand. It wasn't the best, but it also wasn't the worst. She could work with it, especially with a Wild Card and a Draw-4.

"Way to be coy, Jakey-poo," Embry remarked.

Everyone laughed at the nickname.

"Okay, first of all, don't call me that," Jacob told Embry, who shared a high-five with Jared and Seth. "And second, shut up. Let's get this game over with."

"Clockwise, starting with Leah since this is her party," Paul announced.

"Thank you," Leah said before drawing her first card. It was nothing special, just a Red-4.

The round didn't become interesting until Aisha played her card. "Swap card," she declared, grinning widely as everyone made surprised noises. "Who should I choose?" she pointed across the table. "I'll take Jacob's hand."

"_My hand_?" Jacob held the cards to his chest, looking at the other detective as if she had lost her mind. "Wait, you can't do that!"

"Yes, I can."

"Yes, she can," Paul confirmed.

Aisha picked up the card and held it up. "See? Swap Card."

Jacob pointed at the card. "What the hell is that?"

Everyone else laughed.

"With that card, you can switch hands with anyone at the table," Seth explained. "It's a new feature. Keeps the game more interesting."

Jacob's jaw dropped. "This is some bullshit!"

"Haha, Jacob, fork 'em over," Aisha said, holding out her hand. "That's what happens when you talk too damn much, Detective."

"_Burn_," Embry and Jared jeered in unison.

Despite Jacob's vocal protests, Paul demanded the detectives switch hands. Aisha was content with her new cards while Jacob, after one look, tossed his head back and groaned. Everyone but Jacob laughed.

"How do you like your new hand?" Aisha taunted.

"You can go to Hell," Jacob retorted as he rearranged his new cards. "Conspiracy, I tell you. Conspiracy. Everyone's working against me."

"No need to be dramatic, Detective," Paul said.

The game continued.

"Draw four," Martinez said at some time, smirking at Leah. "Sorry about that."

"Whatever," Leah said, ignoring everyone's snickers as she played her own card. "Draw eight." She glanced at Jacob and declared, "And now, the color's Red."

Jacob, Seth, Aisha, and Embry groaned.

Jared and Martinez were satisfied.

"Oh c'mon, Leah, we're supposed to be partners," Jacob whined, tossing up his arms. "Ride _and_ die."

"Not in this game, we are," was Leah's snarky reply.

"Savage," Jared remarked, snickering.

Jacob groaned as he picked up eight cards, cringing every time he added a card to his hand. "Captain, I demanded a new partner starting on Monday. Justification: instituting a hostile environment."

"It's hostile work environment," Martinez corrected. "Keyword: _work_."

"Fuck you."

Everyone laughed.

"Request denied," Paul decided with absolutely no sympathy. "Make sure you draw exactly eight. No cheating. I refuse to be in a pack with a cheating alpha."

Jacob rolled his eyes.

"Man, this is getting embarrassing for you."

"Keep it up, Jared," Jacob threatened. "You know what? I don't care about the damn cards. I'm still gonna bring you all down."

"If that's what you want to believe."

The game carried on without much drama. Leah, Martinez, and Seth were doing well. Aisha and Embry were doing okay. Embry and Jacob were not. Especially, Jacob, who now had cards… and then, he drew a Reverse card.

Leah glared at him. She didn't want it to be her turn. Grumbling, she picked up a card.

"Uno, pendejos," Martinez declared as he played another Reverse card. He eyed everyone suspiciously, holding the last card to his chest.

Which only told Leah that he didn't have a great card—a number and a color. No wild card. No Draw-4. She rubbed her chin as she studied the other players. Only one person, Jared, stood between her and Martinez. She checked her hand and smirked. As soon as Jared played a Red-4, she threw in the Reverse card.

Martinez slapped his forehead. "Oh, you've gotta be—_seriously_?"

Leah tapped her partner on the shoulder. "Jacob, your turn."

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "Oh, _now_ you wanna play nice?" He threw in a card. "Seth, you go."

Seth played a Reverse card.

"How many damn Reverses are in there?" Aisha asked with frustration laced in her voice. She pointed at Paul. "You need to work on your shuffling."

"Don't insult my shuffling, Detective. I _know_ what I'm doing," Paul defended. "How was I supposed to know they would have all of the Reverses?"

"Now, that was counterproductive," Leah complained, giving her brother a dirty look. Seth smiled at her, conveying innocence, but Leah knew better. He had been spending a lot of time with Embry and Jared. "Jacob, make me proud."

"Yes, ma'am," Jacob said, playfully rolling his eyes. He studied his hand—sixteen cards strong. He pulled out a Yellow-Plus Two and smirked when his partner shot him a mean glare. He laughed when she punched his arm.

"_Hey_, no violence!"

Leah waved off Paul's demand. "It's all good," she said, pulling out a card of her own, much to Martinez's detriment. "Plus-Four for you, Martinez."

Martinez slapped his forehead and groaned as everyone laughed. "So close, yet so far…"

"This game's never _gonna_ end," Jared groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

* * *

The game, in fact, did end about an hour later with Seth taking all of the spoils. The guy speaking the least amount of smack was now five hundred dollars richer. Despite the rather enthusiastic pleas for a do-over, Paul had tabled all card games for the night, citing concerns about his underlings losing more money to a "pre-rookie".

"Losing lots of money makes people do stupid things," he had told everyone.

"What are you gonna do with all that money?" Leah heard Jared ask her brother while he and the rest of the twerps followed Seth to the bar. Apparently, he had promised to buy them all drinks to celebrate his winnings—Leah still couldn't believe that Seth was now at the age where he could _legally_ buy drinks.

"Uh, _hello_? Save it for the Comic-Con of all Comic-Cons: San Diego," Seth replied before exchanging high-fives with Jared, Embry, and Eric.

Leah and Jared shared a look and sighed.

"That's fucking sad, getting your asses handed over by a kid," Paul interjected as he walked past the detectives. "I don't even know if I want you all in my unit anyway. I can't handle this level of mediocrity."

Jacob snorted.

"I almost won one round," Leah pointed out. She was loud enough for Paul to hear, causing the man to turn around and shake his head out of disappointment. After shooing the man away, Leah leaned into Jacob's space, asking, "He's joking, right?"

"We'll see on Monday."

"I have to admit, watching you lose and bitch about it made my night." Grinning, Leah pinched Jacob's cheek. She leaned back, dodging a piece of tissue thrown her way. "I may need to drag you into more games."

"Traitor."

"Just that one time," Leah promised, patting her partner's arm. "Like you said: we're ride and die."

"Except during card games."

Leah laughed. "Except during card games."

"I can deal with that," Jacob said, and then, with one hand raised and the other flat over his heart, he declared, "I'm never playing cards with anyone with Clearwater as a last name ever again."

Leah wiggled her eyebrows. "Tired of losing money?"

"Yes, after all, I'm only a cop. Not some damn multi-millionaire who can afford to gamble his money away."

"So, no luck playing the lotto?"

Jacob shook his head.

"Don't feel bad, I suck at it, too," Leah admitted. She was never a gambler but spending a couple of dollars here, and there wouldn't cause much damage. "The most I've ever won was twenty bucks."

"Five, for me."

"_Seriously_?" Leah laughed. She looked down at her empty glass, contemplating if she should get more Paul's concoction, but then remember how much she needed her liver. "Quill, cranberry, please!"

"With anything?" he asked.

Leah put up both hands and shook her head. "No more alcohol for me."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Paul's questionable moonshine did it for you, huh?"

"Two's enough. I'm not trying to get trashed and end up on the news."

"Nah, you'll end up trending on Twitter."

"Like that's better," Leah said, sticking out her tongue. "Anyway, after this, I'm going cold turkey. You down?"

"Aren't we going to Vegas in May?"

"Yeah, but tell me how many please over there sell wolfbane?" Leah challenged. "Unless there's an underground supernatural club you haven't told me about...Are there packs out there?"

"There are packs practically everywhere."

"Ah," Leah said, a bit surprised. "That's crazy."

"Why?"

"Up until last year, I thought vampires and werewolves and whatnot only belonged in books or movies," Leah admitted, shaking her head. She was _still_ amazed. "I can't believe they've been living right under my nose this entire time, and I hadn't noticed a damn thing."

"I still can't believe how well you're taking it," Jacob said. "Most people would be running for the hills."

"Somehow, finding out about the supernatural was less surprising than finding out that my husband's been fucking my cousin for the past three years."

"Point," Jacob said, nodding. "I still can't beat him up?"

"Not worth the hassle," Leah quickly replied before suggesting something _entirely_ different. "Anyway, I don't hate Sam anymore. I actually feel sorry for the man. So, scaring the shit outta him's no longer necessary."

"That's disappointing."

"I know—So, no wolfbane alcohol?"

"I'm down if you are."

"Good," Leah said with a smile. "So, you're good for driving me home? I had two shots of Paul's concoction, and I know I'm gonna regret it in a couple of hours."

Jacob gave Leah a once-over. "You're surprisingly… sober."

"Oh, I'm not. Not really. I'm not a sloppy drunk," Leah explained. "Or tipsy. Whatever. Don't worry, tomorrow morning, my head will become well-acquainted with my toilet."

"Your brother tagging along?"

"Nah, he's having some weird sleepover with the rest of the Musketeers. Something about marathoning the Lord of the Rings and strategizing Chicago's next Comic-Con… Absolute nerds."

"The Musketeers," Jacob chuckled. "I have to remember to call them that."

"I'm sure they'll be honored," Leah replied, snorting. She could hear the quartet from the other side of the bar, passionately discussing some video game and whether they were too old to cosplay as Naruto's Akatsuki. According to Jared, they were not.

She shook her head, making a mental note to tease the younger men about their passions later— It would be out of love, though. She then looked her side, where Jacob remained, staring at her through fond eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen you laugh and smile so much in my life."

"Like I said: seeing you lose at UNO is entertaining."

"I'm honored to be the source of your entertainment."

"You should be," Leah said, not dropping her smile. Her eyes bounced all over the establishment. "It's nice having one of these…" she mused.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "What, a divorce party?"

Leah nodded. "At first, I thought it was a tacky idea," she admitted, not that she ever let Aisha know. "I mean, who celebrates divorce with friends over some drinks and cards? It's supposed to be a somber moment, but… I'm glad Aisha did this for me."

Jacob smiled. "Good."

"Ever thought about having one of those?"

Jacob shook his head. "Never came to mind." He added a smirk. "My divorce didn't involve cheating spouses and traitorous cousins."

"You have a point, Detective."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"Good news about our Vegas trip: we no longer have to worry about the hotel," Leah announced one morning as she and Jacob drove around Chicago. "The beauty of rarely using the family Timeshare. Got enough points for both Vegas and the Canyon."

Jacob grinned as he made a turn. "A beautiful thing," he said. "And now, we just gotta get the plane tickets... Hey, ever thought about going during the week inside of over the weekend. Flight prices are insane for Friday to Monday trips."

"Do you know how long it took us to get Friday to Monday?" Leah argued as she finished the last of her lunch. Jacob was usually antsy about food in his car (well, the department's car), but he never mentioned anything to her. "Paul's not gonna be happy."

"He'll survive."

Leah wiped the remaining crumbs with a napkin. "Just because we're all in the same pack, and you're his alpha, doesn't mean we can get away with anything," she reminded him. "Remember his rule about preferential treatment."

"I remember," Jacob muttered, and then in a clearer voice, "Hey, I'll think of something like... we can come in on a weekend to offset the missing workdays."

Curious, Leah watched Jacob. "Your time's running low?"

"Nah."

Leah bit her lip and nodded. She shifted her attention to the scene outside her window. The area, the streets, they all seemed so familiar. Like she was experiencing deja-vu, and then a particular bookstore came into view. She whipped her head to the side, raising an eyebrow at her partner. "Wilson?"

Jacob didn't say anything until he parked across the second-hand bookstore. "I'll be quick," he promised, tossing Leah the keys. "Ten minutes, tops."

"I'm keeping time."

Jacob slightly smiled and exited the car. "I know you will." He tapped the hood and jay-walked across the street. Leah watched on as Jacob met up Wilson, who, after exchanging some greetings, led the detective inside the shop.

The car was parked a few hundred feet away, but Leah could still hear the conversation between the two men. Keeping up with his promise, Jacob got straight to the point, "Mike Newton."

Leah's eyebrows drew together in confusion. She thought this conversation would be about Gianna Castellano.

"Got shanked in Cook County," Wilson admitted without hesitance before offering the detective a can of pop. "To no one's surprise."

"His death's been ruled as a suicide."

"And you believe that?"

"No."

"Good. I was about to question your knowledge about this mess," Wilson said, partially joking. He then sighed. "A hit was placed on his head."

"Since when?"

"Since he saved that girl's life. A human, I believe. Blonde, mid-twenties, maybe. She attended that party at Mike's the night it got bombed."

"It was ambushed," Jacob corrected.

Wilson snorted. '"There were explosions, so it was bombed. Anyway, word on the street is that Mrs. Cullen wanted her and him dead after that."

"Why?"

"Like I know," and then, "Did you know her? Was she one of Carlisle's girls?"

"Not yet."

"Oh."

Silence fell between the two men.

"Mrs. Cullen was concerned about them talking?"

"Black, I have no idea what goes on in that coven," Wilson admitted. "They got more drama than Victoria, Maria, _and_ the Volturi combined, and that's saying something."

"No, kidding."

"Hey, Black, I gotta go. Got anything else?"

"Nah, old man. Thanks. You've been a great help to this investigation.'

"I'm not helping CPD," Wilson stressed. "I'm not one of their biggest fans. I don't have a shit about their numbers."

"Can't say I blame you."

"I'm only telling you this so you can add something to your stats... and your partner's. I have no issue with her."

"I appreciate the gesture, old man."

* * *

"Should we get a warrant for Esme's arrest?" Leah asked, hopeful, as Jacob entered the car. Wilson was still standing outside of his bookstore, watching the detectives intently. If he were anyone else, Leah would have been sessions, but Jacob seemed fine about it.

Jacob fastened his seatbelt and turned on the car. "Ah, you heard everything."

"Wolf sense, remember?"

Jacob let out a soft chuckle. "How can I forget?" He maneuvered the car out of its parking space. "And to answer your question: we can't. Not year. We need to find out who made the move and work backward."

"To build a stronger case?"

Jacob nodded. "Yeah, and plus, Amun Husseini is still on Esme's payroll."

"We should talk to Jenks."

"Right after we get a subpoena."

* * *

"Are you trying to jeopardize my relationship with Cook County _again_?" Jenks asked the following morning, setting aside the subpoena request and removing his reading across. He locked eyes with both detectives, sitting across his desk. "Because this sure way to, once again, get my ass handed to."

"You didn't even do anything," Jacob argued, barely masking his amusement.

Leah bit down on her lip to suppress any chuckles. Sometimes, Jenks could be just as dramatic as Jacob. Perhaps that was why the two men got along so well. After taking a deep breath to compose herself, Leah pointed out that, "Sorio's gone, so you should be fine."

"Ha, very funny. You know who thinks this is funny, my physician, every time he checks my blood pressure." Jenks let out a huff before scanning the request for the umpteenth time. "Now, what's up with this? According to everyone, outside of Team Voldemort, Mike died by suicide. We have no reason on paper to suggest otherwise."

"On paper," Leah stressed. "Jenks, you've been in this business long to know that's bullshit."

Jenks gave Leah a look, but didn't deny anything. "So, you want to talk to the folks at Cook County and tell them what?" he challenged, removing his glasses and tossing them aside. "That we don't believe their official story? That we need to check out those security tapes? That we need to talk to your staff. That maybe you should invest in a _lawyer_?"

Leah understood the prosecutor's reluctance, but, "It's the Bureau or us," Leah replied, knowing very well that Jenks was in no mood to deal with the feds. "They're interested in Mike, as well. They've been interested in years."

"I'd be surprised if they haven't," Jenks grumbled, crossing his arms. "Who told you about the hit on Mike, anyway?"

Jacob straightened up his suit jacket. "It was a word on the street."

"Word on the street," Jenks echoed, giving the detective a knowing look before letting out a snort. "From one of your father's friends?"

Jacob tensed.

Jenks sighed and waved dismissively. "I'm not going to hold that association against you, Detective. I told you that then, and I tell you that now," he said carefully, honest. "But words on the street doesn't hold in court—"

"I know," Jacob interjected, rolling his eyes. This probably wasn't the time he'd heard those words. "The defense would have a fit."

"As long as you know that…"

Leah looked between both men, "So?"

Jenks cleared his throat. "I need hard evidence. I need someone to talk," he said. "Someone reliable, preferably some newbie so all the defense can do is shut up. And then, and only then, I'll ask the judge for a subpoena so we can get access to those tapes. Sounds good?"

The detectives shared a look and nodded.

"Good." Jenks sat up in his chair and folded his hands. "What's the update on the Castellano case?"

"According to a source," Jacob said, glancing at Leah. "An unknown subject requested the services of a waste management crew: pick up, presumably at LaPush and drop off at the landfill."

"The subject may be associated with the Volturi," Leah added. "They're the one only who had an ironclad motive."

"Which was?"

"She wanted to be a vampire. Would do anything to become on," Leah explained. "She also happened to be sleeping with a predator. And she witnessed the death of a rival's girlfriend."

"She was becoming a problem," Jacob remarked.

"So, the hit on Gianna was ordered after Jessica's death?"

"We don't know," Jacob said. "But we're going to find out."

* * *

"Agent Mansour," Leah acknowledged one day upon noticing Benjamin waltzing towards her and Jacob, just as they were packing their things. Their shift was about to end. If Benjamin were anyone else, she would have brushed him off and wait until the next morning. "Nice to you, as always."

"Looks like you two are about to leave... Don't worry, I won't keep you long. I'd like to be home at a decent time for once in my life, as well."

"It's not a problem," Jacob insisted dismissively. "What's going on?"

"Maria." Sitting on the ledge of Jacob's desk, Ben paused to wave at Paul, who had noticed him through his office blinds. "She's been trying to transport Grade-A UV's up the California coast and across, back to Illinois."

Leah and Jacob exchanged looks and dropped their belongings on their desks.

"Why Illinois?" Leah wondered, crossing her arms. "Her stronghold's gone."  
"Beats me," Ben said, shrugging, and then, "Oh, I got some info on Gianna: she was questioned by Des Moines police back in December for possible possession of illegal arms. The cops let her go after an hour. Nothing was filed." He handed the cops the corresponding report. "Gianna was also arrested back in November '18 in Mexico for, you guessed it, possible possession of illegal arms. Not much came out of it, as well. Rumor has it that someone got paid off. Rumor also has it that the payer's linked to the Velasquez cartel."

Leah couldn't say she was too surprised by the news.

"Of course, she would be linked to a goddamn cartel," Jacob remarked, rolling his eyes. "_Of course_."

"That's not all," Benjamin said, pulling out his work phone. He played with it for a bit before holding it up, revealing a tattoo drawing. "Look familiar?"

Placing a hand on her forehead, Leah sat down in the nearest seat, not believing her eyes. Many years had passed since she last saw that mark (a black dragon, encircling the sun), but it was something she could never forget. Memories of her time at the special victims unit flooded her consciousness. It was the mark of an infamous, twisted sex cult—What the Hell did Gianna get herself into?

Jacob looked at Leah's way, alarmed. "Isn't that the same tattoo from...?"

Leah nodded, expression solemn.

"Yep," Ben confirmed. "She was searching for potential lovers via the now-defunct Backpage site as well as Instagram. All offers for a threesome. Sex of the interested party did not matter."

"She did this for Demetri," Leah concluded, but, " I don't know... I just don't understand. The timeline doesn't make sense. Gianna was killed only an hour after Jessica. Those who dumped her at the site only take offers from someone reputable..." She trailed off, rubbing her chin. "Who could have killed her? The cartel? The s** cult?"

"Or a pissed-off pick-up," Ben offered. "Demetri was into some _freaky _stuff."

"He only used one per night," Jacob pointed out, cringing. "And I assume that Jessica was the one."

"My guys have one of the Velasquez in custody," Ben informed the detectives, putting away his phone. "He isn't one of the bigshots, but he may be able to provide us with something. I'll keep you both."

"Thanks, man."

"Thanks, Ben."

* * *

"_Oh, go to Hell_..." Leah grumbled into her pillow as her cell phone rang. She considered tossing the device at the wall, but it was sadly beyond arm's reaching. Cursing, she covered the ears with her pillow, but thanks to her enhanced hearing, the action did nothing.

Resigned, Leah trudged across the bed and frowned at the sight of her ex-husband's name on the screen. She could have disregarded the call, but the professional side of her screamed no. There was a reason, a damn good reason, why Sam would call her at this time of night.

"What?" She practically snapped. Not necessary because of the man on the other line, but because it was almost midnight. She was in _no _mood to go to a crime scene.

"I got someone on your girl," Sam announced over the phone. From the sound of it, he was still at work.

"Which one?"

"Gianna. Apparently, she was messing with a guy who also might have been sleeping with Demetri _and _Caius..." Sam sighed. "It's a big mess."

"_What_?" Leah shot up from the bed. "Is he alive?"

"Surprisingly, yes. He's actually sitting in the interview room in front of me. We picked him up earlier for attempting to murder his benefactor. A rich older man... you know how it is."

Leah dragged a hand down her face. "You can't make this up..."

"I know. Good news: he's talking. He's talking _a lot_, claiming that it was all a misunderstanding. A setup. He didn't mean to do it, you know, the usual BS- Oh look, his lawyer finally decided to make an appearance. Gotta go. If I get any more info on Gianna, I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Sam," Leah said, sliding back down on her bed. She leaned her against the mound of pillows and breathed in. "I mean it."

"It's the least I can do."

* * *

"Patrick Munch. White. Age twenty-nine, hailing from Cedar Rapids, Iowa," Jacob read off a preliminary report while Leah handed Aisha and Embry a copy. "Came to Chicago to become a model- should've just gone to NYC, in my opinion- but then, his agent got arrested for money laundering. Was romantically involved with Gianna for a year until last December..."

"Reason for the breakup?" Aisha asked.

"Demetri was a possessive asshole," Jacob offered.

Leah nodded in agreement.

"Of who?" Embry wondered. "Was he sleeping with a whole slew of them?"

"He liked to spread his love around," Leah remarked, sarcastic.

"I think he wasn't too thrilled about his dates sleeping with each other," Jacob said.

"So, why is this Patrick Munch guy in trouble for attempted murder?" Aisha asked.

"He tried to kill his sugar daddy after the man refused to lend him ten-large for his silence," Leah explained, directing Aisha and Embry to the second page of the report. "The name's Mark Levin."

Embry shrugged. "Never heard of him."

"He's a neuro-surgeon," Jacob said. "Aged fifty-seven from Schaumberg. Married with three children," and then, added with a grimace, "It's Sam's case."

"Oh," Aisha and Embry replied in unison.

Leah rolled her eyes at the looks everyone was giving her. "Just because we're divorced doesn't mean we can't be professional," she explained. "Sam was the one who told me about it."

"Good for him," Aisha remarked, flippant and without any sincerity. "Good for him."

"So, what happens now?" Embry asked. "We raid Esme's house, guns blazing?"

"Let's make sure this Patrick is telling the truth before we make a decision," Leah advised. "We have to make sure he's not saying all of this to save his tail. Gianna's murder may not be as sensationalized as Jessica's, but the news still reported it."

* * *

When her shift ended, Leah stopped by an abandoned office building outside of downtown to attend a scheduled meeting with Jane. Jane was a confidential source, and being so, she generally planned the meetings. Leah was fine with this; she didn't want to call Jane every other day, demanding her presence because doing so would only make the detective desperate. Desperation would give the vampire an advantage.

"I apologize for the short notice," Jane told Leah. Her sincerity was up to debate. "It's been quite busy."

Leah didn't need excuses, just information. "We're all busy."

Jane stared at the other woman, expression indiscernible, but nothing alarming. Eventually, she let out a sigh. "Indeed," she said, pulling out a flask from her purse. She set it on the table. "I hope you don't mind. It's synthetic."

Leah waved dismissively. If it were a year ago, she would have gawked at the sight of someone ingesting blood. But now... now, it was different. Almost expected. "You gotta eat."

"Hm." Jane kept her eyes on the detective as she took a long sip. "You have certainly become more agreeable since the change..."

"I didn't have much of a choice, did it?"

Jane's smirk was small. "I suppose you did not, Detective Uley—"

"Clearwater."

Jane raised a curious eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?" She studied Leah for a bit and smirked. "Ah, I see. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Leah replied quietly, not exactly comfortable with discussing her private life. But then again, Jane probably knew everything already. The Chicago Police Department had been a victim of hacking during the last several years (not that the general public knew about everything), and Leah would bet her arm that the Volturi had gotten their hands on the data.

"Change can be a good thing," Jane said after a few moments of silence. "It may... not be the most comfortable feeling. We are so used to the consistency, but eventually, we realize that we cannot always live our lives as such, in a situation particularly toxic..."

Leah held her tongue. She couldn't believe that Jane, formally of the Volturi guard, was giving her life pointers. "Do you feel that way about the Volturi?"

"Let's discuss the subject at hand, shall we?"

"Of course."

"I have become aware of a recent arrest," Jane said, completely ignoring the previous conversation. She had game face on, strictly business. "Patrick Munch arrested for the attempted murder of his romantic partner."

"I would not call it romantic."

"Neither would I."

"Did you know him?"

"He has been in Demetri's bed..."

"Yeah, like half the damn city," Leah said with a snort.

"Demetri had always been amorous," Jane remarked. For a moment, there was an amused smirk, but as soon as Leah realized it, it disappeared.

"Was Demetri the only person he was having relationships with?"

Jane sucked her teeth. "I do not concern myself such matters," she said, annoyed. And then, in a softer tone, "Those men, those women... never concerned me. Never had anything to do with my tasks. Never were important to the mission."

Leah doubted Jane was giving her the whole story; it just wasn't her repertoire. She could sense the frustration that Jane had with Demetri and the questions she had for her former employees. She might have been loyal to them, but that didn't mean she had always agreed with them—so, she had a mind of her own. Leah could respect that.

Silence fell between the women. While Leah patiently waited for Jane to continue, the vampire took her time ingesting some more blood. When she was ready to proceed, Jane set aside the container and pulled out a piece of folded paper from under her cloak before handing it to the detective. "Her name is Heidi," she simply said.

Leah opened the page. "Heidi Baumgartner," she read carefully and glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "One of yours?"

"Formally," Jane replied. "She's now the main Volturi contact in the Midwest. Currently residing in a penthouse on the Gold Coast under the pseudonym: Sonja DuPont."

Sonja DuPont- anyone with a pulse within the Chicago Police Department knew who Sonja DuPont was.

She was the beautiful widow of Matthieu DuPont, the heir to a financing empire that had collapsed during the 2008 Recession. Three hundred and fifty-million-dollar inheritance reduced to rubble. The DuPont family, to make up for lost funds, decided to get involved in arms manufacturing and distribution. Rumor had it, they were also involved in the black market, which had most likely led to the convenient "suicide" of one Matthieu DuPont.

That family was a living, breathing embodiment of drama.

The official story behind DuPont's suicide was that he had jumped out of the window from the 24th Floor condo balcony and landed in the pool below. The unofficial story was that another had caused his death... but after years of investigations, which involved the feds and Sam's former unit, nothing had come out of it. By the time it was over, Sonja had been entirely cleared of any wrongdoing and fifty million dollars richer. Rumor also had it was that she should have won an Oscar for her role as "dumb, blonde, trophy-widow".

But how did Sonja get involved with the Volturi?

"Demetri," Jane provided.

Leah rolled her eyes. "Let me guess: he was messing with her, too?"

The expression on Jane's face was visibly amused, but the woman's usual stoicism quickly replaced it. She cleared her throat and sipped on her meal. "Partner-in-crime is more like it."

"Why did she leave the Volturi?"

"They didn't appreciate her talents until it was too late," Jane admitted. "They were... I suppose you can say, prudish to a fault. They preferred the usual, sterile methods of information gathering. Heidi did not."

"She seduced their targets," Leah deduced.

"Where did you think Demetri got it from?" Jane snorted. "Certainly not from himself."

"Is Heidi going to be a problem."

"She already is. She's operating a high-class escort business out of her penthouse. Just like our friend Alistair, but somehow more insidious. Alistair... he may be a man of absolute annoyance, but he is honest about his work. As honest as one such as himself can be, that is."

"Are you referring to trafficking?" Leah asked, reading between the lines."

"Nothing I can prove... but she has always been fond of extortion. Seduce men of means, especially the married ones, and get something of it. Clean out their accounts. Their savings. Their children's saving and college funds... leave them to dry- The money is laundered through Volturi's cash-based businesses."

"Why is Heidi working for a coven that left her to rot?"

"They didn't. They simply believed she should send her business elsewhere. There was no bad blood between the two parties."

"What does this have to do with Jessica Stanley?"

"Sonja DuPont, nee Heidi Baumgartner, she was the one who introduced your Dahlia to Demetri, and ultimately, the rest of the Volturi."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

"Detective Black and I would like to personally thank you, Mrs. DuPont, for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with us."

Leah had to pinch herself, not believing her luck. Right in front of her and Jacob stood Mrs. DuPont. Sonja DuPont. Heidi Baumgartner, in the flesh. In her well-tailored orange, gaudy for an average person, but not for Sonja. There was something about her—her eyes, her demeanor, the smirk playing on her lips—that undoubtedly reminded Leah of Rosalie Hale.

"I am not here because if I want to," Sonja replied in a matter of fact manner. Rolling her eyes, she sat down, placed her white Hermes bag aside, and neatly folded her hands on the table. Her eyes remained straight ahead as if challenging the detectives to try her. "After some cross-benefit analysis, I realize that I have enough interaction with the press. I do not need any more."

"Noted," Jacob said.

Leah didn't dispute Sonja. Mr. DuPont's suicide investigation was in layman's terms, a shitshow. It would make the woman's life so much easier if an arrest warrant or a subpoena weren't involved. It would have also made Sonja's life easier if her legal counsel was here, but the lawyer was not, apparently, running late due to rush-hour traffic. But Sonja, someone who knew about the legal system, didn't seem to be concerned.

"We understand," Leah told the other woman. Personally, she could care less about Sonja's struggles. She knew of the woman; she knew about her shenanigans. She didn't deserve the benefit of the doubt—but Sonja didn't have to know that. "Let's get straight to business, shall we?" Leah pressed the play button on the tape recorder. Just in case. "What do you do for a living, Mrs. DuPont?"

She was madam, an alleged money launderer. A longtime associate of Demetri and therefore, the Volturi—but just Leah expected, Sonja wouldn't say any of those. "I am philanthropist," she said with confidence. "A businessman. Occasional matchmaker."

Leah jotted down the response. "For long-term or short-term relationships?"

"It depends on the couple." Sonja stopped, narrowing her eyes, studying the detectives' body language. Neither Leah and Jacob made any effort to hide their suspicions. Sonja let out a breath, then stiffened in her seat. "Oh, I see," she started, letting out a little scoff. She intended to feign nonchalance, but the detectives immediately saw through the façade. "You're accusing me of running an escort business. Well, I will tell you something, Detective Black and Clearwater, I am not a madam. I am an occasional matchmaker like I said. Being a matchmaker is not a crime."

"Yeah, but being in the middle of a mob-related murder conspiracy is."

Leah watched Sonja's response. Affronted by Jacob's accusation, Sonja's gaze shifted from one detective to the other. "I was under the impression I was not suspected of anything nefarious."

"You're not," Leah assured the other woman. Technically, she wasn't lying. "As we said earlier, we're only here to ask questions. To cover all of our bases."

Jacob nodded.

Sonja eyed the tape recorder. "Whom is this about?"

"Jessica Stanley."

"The media calls her the Chicago Dahlia," Jacob added.

Sonja straightened herself in her seat and cleared her throat. "Oh. Her."

Now, they were getting somewhere. With her pen and notepad ready, Leah asked, "Did you know her?" The question was inherently rhetorical, but she was intrigued by Sonja's response. The woman could lie, the woman _wanted_ to, but as someone who was not a novice in this matter, it would've been stupid for Sonja to do so.

Sonja's answer wasn't immediate. "Who doesn't?" She scoffed. "Her face has been plastered everywhere. It's JonBenet all over again."

Leah wouldn't go that far. Jessica Stanley's murder was gruesome, but it didn't attract nearly as many conspiracy theories and out-of-the-world potentially false confessions as the death of that poor, young beauty queen. "Did you _know_ her?" Leah asked again, stressing her words.

Sonja let out a light huff and crossed her arms. She was defensive, amateur mistake. "What are you insinuating, Detective?" she asked with a bite. "That I had something to do with her death?"

"As my partner said, we have no reason to think of you as a suspect," Jacob said with a slight smirk. "But, thank you for bringing the possibility to our attention."

Sonja drew in a breath, horrified.

Leah pushed aside her notepad and sighed. "Do yourself a favor and call your lawyer," she advised, tapping the table. "We need to get this on the road."

* * *

Sonja ended up calling her lawyer.

The wait would be twenty minutes. Jacob remained inside the interview room, engaging with a never-ending staring contest with Sonja while Leah stood outside with a stopwatch playing her phone. At exactly twenty minutes, a newcomer arrived, and it wasn't anyone Leah expected.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," she groaned, pocketing her phone and tossing up her hands at the sight of the person she'd thought would saunter into the police station, all high and mighty with a determined expression on her face. Rosalie here was here.

Rosalie Hale.

Who, last time Leah checked, was supposed to be spending the rest of her days building a consulting firm in Los Angeles. Who had professionally cut ties with the Olympic Coven following the arrest of its newly-appointed leader, Edward Masen—What the hell was she doing here?"

Grumbling, Leah peered through the interview room window, knocked on it, and motioned Jacob to get ready. When Rosalie finally reached her, Leah tried to suppress her surprise and greeted the fixer before adding, "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Or in this city. Or in this state."

Rosalie raised her well-manicured eyebrow. "Detective," she said. "You well. Divorce finally finalized?"

"I know you're not here to discuss my romantic life," Leah argued, crossing her arms. "What are you doing in Chicago."

"My job."

"Your _job_? This isn't California."

"I know exactly what state I'm in," Rosalie practically snapped. "I'm here to consult my client before you and your partner make her do something, say something she will forget."

"Your client?" Leah was admittedly confused. "Your client is head. Your client's wife isn't in our custody—"

"I'm referring to the woman sitting inside the interview with your partner."

Leah blinked. "What?"

Reveling in the detective's bewilderment, Rosalie smirked. "Sonja DuPont."

"Sonja DuPont is your _client_?" Leah couldn't believe her ears. "What the hell are you doing, helping out Heidi? You know she was a member of the Volturi, right? Your client's arch-enemy, right?"

"Former client," Rosalie reminded the detective and then paused, cocking her head. "I'm sorry, Heidi? I am representing Sonja DuPont." Her gaze hardened. "From now on, any question you have for _my_ client will have to be addressed in my presence. Understood?" She didn't give Leah a chance. "Good."

Leah didn't see any point in arguing. "She's not a suspect."

Rosalie snorted. "if she weren't, then why would she ask me for my assistance?"

Leah wondered that herself. "Maybe because she runs an escort business and got caught for it?" she suggested. "Running a brothel is illegal in this city."

"Which makes her a suspect of a crime," Rosalie said, straightening up her suit jacket. She looked beyond the detective, to the room where she client was currently residing in and frowned. "You've questioned her already."

"Like I said: she's not a suspect," Leah said. "If it weren't for me, she'd still be talking without you."

"The message her personal assistant left in my voice mail suggested otherwise."

* * *

"As previously mentioned, Mrs. DuPont is not a suspect for the murder of Jessica Stanley," Leah announced to both Sonja and Rosalie. "The purpose is this meeting is to discuss Mrs. DuPont's knowledge. It has come under our attention that Mrs. DuPont had known the victim. We simply want to know what extent."

Neither woman believed Leah's statement.

"Of course," Rosalie said, unconvincingly. She gave both detectives a pointed look before whispering something into her client's ear. It wasn't English, Leah realized, but a language… most likely, German. When finished, Rosalie informed Leah and Jacob that, "My client is willing to cooperate if, and only if, you can assume us that is not a prime murder suspect."

"That's for you to decide," Jacob said.

"I did not kill anyone," Sonja declared.

Leah honestly didn't know why Sonja had said those words. The statement wasn't helping her cause. "Let's continue with the questioning, shall we?"

"All information before my arrival cannot and will not be used against my client," Rosalie warned. "She has not been read her rights—"

"She's not under arrest," Jacob argued, becoming increasingly frustrated. "Mrs. DuPont is free to leave whenever she pleases."

Leah nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind," Sonja said.

"How do you know my client knows Jessica Stanley in the first place?" Rosalie demanded.

"We are detectives, Miss Hale. Do you really need to ask that?" Leah challenged, and then, "How, Mrs. DuPont?"

Sonja sighed. "Her friend introduced me to her."

"Name?"

"Lauren Mallory?"

Leah cleared her throat.

"Lauren Mallory," Jacob repeated carefully. "Jessica's roommate, Lauren Mallory?"

Sonja nodded.

Rosalie narrowed her eyes.

"How did you know Lauren Mallory?" Leah asked.

"She was interested in my services," Sonja provided with a nonchalant shrug. "Everyone wants to be paired with someone with means. Though, I had to admit I wasn't expecting her to pay a visit. After all, she comes from some money, herself. Not tons, but the estate's enough."

Leah made a quick note to look further into this new piece of information. "Whom did you set her up with—"

"That's confidential," Rosalie interjected, voice sharp. "We are to discuss my client's association with Jessica Stanley, not the lives of her clients."

Jacob opened his mouth, ready to challenge the lawyer, but Leah tapped him his lap, telling him to back off. "Did Jessica come to you, asking for your services?" Leah asked.

Sonja shook her head. "Lauren wanted a life mater. Jessica wanted to have fun. Perhaps a little much fun. She wanted to traverse through my world. Live in her it. Become a part of it."

"So, you didn't match her up with anyone?" Jacob wanted to clarify.

Sonja shook her head again. "No. She wanted to meet people, so I introduced her to people, never assigned them to her."

Leah raised an eyebrow. _Assigned_—interesting word choice.

"Such as?"

Sonja glanced at her lawyer, seeking approval. After receiving a reserved one, she replied with, "I did warn her, but she thought she could handle it. She had a lot of guys, I tell you. A lot."

"Did you know she was involved with someone else?"

"She certainly didn't _hide_ it."

"Mrs. DuPont," Jacob started, ignoring Rosalie's sharp gaze. "You seem like an intelligent woman. Savvy. Someone who knows the in's and out's of society. Why would you introduce the lover of your associate's rival to your _associate_?"

"She made a pact with the Devil."

"Which one?" Jacob asked.

_Good one_, Leah thought.

"To be honest herself," Sonja said. "She was so hell-bent on becoming one of…." She trailed off, glancing at the tape recorder. "You know that she didn't use common sense. She wanted a taste of another word, come hell, or high water."

Leah nodded. "You told her that Demetri would give her what she wanted."

"Sure," Sonja said, flippantly, leaning in. "If he liked her enough. It's quite unfortunate what happened to her, but you must understand, Detectives, it's just business." She pressed against the back of her chair. "She was willing to give up some intel on the Cullen's and the Denali's…" she shrugged. "Who was I to say no?"

"Did Demetri know about her relationship with Carlisle?" Jacob asked.

Sonja snorted. "She wasn't Carlisle's. She was Alistair's. Carlisle was just a client. A long-term one…"

Jacob rephrased the question. "Did Demetri know she was Alistair's?"

"Sure, not that it mattered," Sonja said. "Alistair doesn't have allegiances. Money is money no matter who it comes from."

* * *

"Of all people, why is Rosalie Hale for an associate of the Volturi?"

Paul asked after receiving an update on Detectives Clearwater and Black's interrogation of Sonja DuPont—She was obviously hiding something. Something big, but unfortunately, at this moment, the detectives had nothing to pin the socialite for (and Jenks wasn't going to prosecute on mere rumors). They didn't have concrete proof that she was running a brothel out of her Gold Coast penthouse. They didn't have proof that she was intimately involved in the Dahlia's demise. Everything was hearsay.

"That's an excellent question, Captain," Jacob said, glancing at Leah. "Got anything?"

Leah shook her head. She was in the same boat as Jacob: confused and a bit apprehensive. Rosalie's move was unexpected; unexpected meant that some shit was about the hit the fan. Rosalie didn't represent just _anyone_ with a large wallet. "Money is money, no matter where it comes from?" she offered.

Jacob was satisfied with the answer, but Paul was still left puzzled. He knew Rosalie just as well as Leah did. "I thought she was laying low in Cali?"

"We thought so, too."

"There has to be a good reason why Rosalie's switching teams," Jacob remarked. "The last time I check, she left the Olympic coven on good terms."

"Is she Heidi's, my bad, _Mrs_. _DuPont's_ lawyer or fixer?" Paul wanted to know. "I don't see why she's lawyered up… We're not arresting her for anything. At least, not now. No warrants. No subpoenas. We're not even asking her to testify when we can finally get a grand jury without a witness conveniently disappearing. What's the deal?"

"She does own a matchmaking business that may, no, is a front of an escorting service," Leah pointed out.

"She's not gonna get much time for that," Jacob argued. "I promise you that. That lady's loaded. Hale, for the time being, is her personal lawyer."

"Client list?" Leah suggested. "That can ruin someone. Remember that whole Ashley Madison episode from a few years back?"

"Well, shit," Paul said. "Since everyone wants to act like suspects, we may as well get a search warrant and subpoena and DuPont's business records. Let's see if Jenks is up to the task. You know, he's been trying to steer clear of the city, county, _and_ state governments until things calm down…"

"And how long do you think that's gonna last?"

Paul shrugged, seemingly not concerned. "Until another scandal pops up," he said. "Which won't be long. After all, this is Chicago. We live for the drama."

* * *

"What is the meaning of this?" Sonja roared sometime that week, barging into her penthouse's main room, followed by her entourage. Everyone was horrified saved for the socialite's bodyguard, a vampire dressed a stereotypical Eastern European attire (Adidas paraphernalia and all) was the one member of the crew not making a scene. He stayed put, muscular arms crossed, staring down at everyone unwelcomed visitor.

"Search warrant," Jacob said, holding up a copy of the court order. He handed it to the bodyguard, who handed it over his boss. "We're gonna be taking business documents and… and that little black book we know contains your precious client list."

The bodyguard bristled but remained in his place.

Bringing a hand to her mouth, Sonja scanned the warrant. "My lawyer will hear about this," she threatened, tossing the document to the floor. One of the assistants picked it up and placed it aside. "

"Call her." Jacob shrugged. "And please, don't tamper with anything. It won't do you or your friends any good."

"Any good?" Sonja snorted, glaring at every cop walking past her with boxes full of files. "I haven't done anything wrong." She pointed an accusing finger at Leah. "You promised me that I wouldn't be accused of murder if I cooperated."

"I upheld my promise," Leah told the socialite. "You're not in trouble for murder. You've been accused of operating a brothel and funneling money to a criminal organization, namely, the Volturi."

Sonja pressed a hand against her chest, affronted. "It's a _matchmaking_ business."

Leah cocked her head. "And the Volturi?"

"I do not associate myself with the Volturi," Sonja declared. She was keeping her resolve, sticking to her story… Leah was almost improved. Sonja wouldn't be an easy person to break. "I run my business with my own money."

"Don't anything else until your lawyer gets here," Jacob suggested roughly. "The last thing I need is a lecture from Miss Hale about the Fifth Amendment… In the meantime, Officer Johnson and Luiso will be keeping you and your buddies company."

Sonja huffed, but ultimately, she, along with her crew, was led away by the officers.

"She's smarter than most," Leah whispered to Jacob.

"But she ain't all-knowing."

The detectives took their time roaming around the penthouse, searching for a desk or a closet to raid. The area was large, consisting of seven rooms and a reception area. Judging on the expensive white, glass, and marble theme and the leather couches, a fortune must have been interested in this place. Eventually, there stopped by a copy passing by, with a box of papers under one under and a batch of files under another. He lifted his chin, motioning the detectives to pull out the folder sticking out.

"Check this out," he said.

Leah and Jacob did, and the information was damning.

"Oh c'mon, you thought she was telling the truth?" Jacob asked with a snort.

"No, but she could've used a better lie," Leah argued, returning the evidence to the cop. "Not as smart as I thought- Thanks, Carey."

"Yeah, no problem."

Eventually, the detectives found themselves rummaging through an untouched file cabinet. Unlike most of the other storage containers, there was a key still in the lock. As soon as Jacob opened it, the detectives pulled out anything of use.

"A bill of 2500 dollars issued to the Honorable Judge Calvin Sorio," Leah announced with a snort. So far, the cabinet was full of invoices from the '80s and '90s. "He's certainly a man of wavering loyalties—Sixty-minute full massage by Mia."

Jacob mumbled a string of words under his breath as he retrieved a handful of file folders. "Hey, he was an equal opportunity man, liked to play on both sides. Nothing wrong with that." He pulled out another invoice. "Thirty-five large donation from Napolitano's," he read. "Now, why would a Volturi-based business give our favorite socialite such a hefty gift? I thought she didn't _associate_ with them?"

"Sonja better hope Rosalie comes through for her," Leah told Jacob. "It's not looking good for her right now. Cook County and the feds are going to have a field day when they find out about this. Jenks may actually cry."

"What a sight that'll be?" Jacob snickered.

Leah nodded and resumed her search. While digging through the never-ending piles of files, she received a text from her work phone. She was surprised to find out the message was from Sam—an update on the attempted murder case: Patrick Munch had formally accepted the guilty plea for aggravated assault. In exchange for a lighter sentence, he had provided the names of Demetri's numerous lovers, intimate details about his relationship with Gianna, Demetri, and Caius. Needless to say, Patrick was advised to go into witness' protection. Whether he would up to it, was up in the air.

_Remind him what happened to Lauren_, Leah quickly texted back. Not waiting for a response, she pocketed her phone and ushered Jacob towards her to inform him of the news.

Jacob let out a sarcastic laugh. "Is he trying to make up for all of the BS he put you through?"

Leah sighed. Sometimes, she wondered if the man grumbling in front of her despised Sam than she had during her worst days. She reached out and squeezed Jacob's shoulder. "He's only doing his job. Information sharing is an integral aspect of solving crimes. You know that."

Jacob snorted, adverting his gaze. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we'll keep an eye on it."

* * *

"If this about Sonja—"

Leah put up a hand, effectively cutting off Rosalie. "You mean, _Heidi_?" She shook her head. "It's not."

Her meeting with Rosalie Hale was a last-minute one, a surprising one. She couldn't believe Rosalie had agreed with it, especially since it was a Friday afternoon. But here she was, providing unhelpful responses, growing increasingly irritated. But Rosalie did not make one attempt to leave the room, the police station. To Leah, that was all that mattered.

"I don't know where you're getting this Heidi-person from—"

Leah grumbled, frustrated. "Rosalie, please don't insult my intelligence. You know I'd never do that to you."

Rosalie wanted to fight it—there were flames of determination in her amber eyes—but eventually, she relented, probably realizing that making a scene wasn't worth the hassle. With Jacob handling a Fang interrogation at another location, Leah was the only other person in the interview room; the fixer didn't have to overcompensate.

"Who told you?"

"Doesn't matter," was Leah's quick response. One should never give up a source to an adversary. Leah pulled out a chair and sat across from the fixer. "I want to talk to you about Gianna Castellano."

"The receptionist that was found in a landfill?" Rosalie asked, surprised. She quickly composed herself. "Pretty girl, wasn't she? If you must know, I've never met her. I've heard of her, of course, but anyone who knew the Volturi did, as well. It's a shame what happened to her…"

"Was she sleeping with Demetri?"

Rosalie snorted. "Who wasn't?"

"Including Irina."

"Like I said: who wasn't?" Rosalie rolled her eyes. "In Gianna's defense, I doubt she knew exactly what she was getting herself into. Irina was just a fool. Looking into her death, as well?"

"Not our priority," Leah replied though Paul had assigned someone to handle Irina's death. Nothing much had come out of it besides Tanya possibly being a suspect. "What was it about Demetri that attracted so many people to him?"

"I've never liked the man," Rosalie admitted. "But he was a looker with an irresistible accent. He was also powerful. Not at the level of Aro and the others, but powerful enough to demand respect. He knew he had it, which was why he always talked around like his shit didn't stink… I've also heard he's terrific in the sac."

Leah grimaced. She didn't need to hear that, needed to know about that, especially since the last time she had seen Demetri, he had been in a body bag with a bullet to his head. She adjusted her questioning. "Heard of Patrick Munch?"

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were talking about Gianna."

"We are," Leah insisted. "Well?"

"Didn't he get arrested for stabbing his much older boyfriend, a doctor from the 'burbs? How embarrassing it must be for his wife and children." Rosalie shook her head and then asked, "Have you met him in person?"

Leah frowned. That was the question _she_ was supposed to ask Rosalie. "Have you?"

Rosalie shook her head. "But I've heard rumors about him. He's an interesting guy: part gigolo, part errand boy. He was off shacking up with that Hollywood producer, but apparently, he got bored of the lifestyle."

"Who told you that?"

"Doesn't matter," Rosalie smirked, tossing Leah's earlier words to her face. "My word of advice, Detective: ask the staff at LaPush. I heard he frequented there, him and his… dates."

* * *

"Have you ever seen this man before?" Jacob asked the following week, holding up a picture of Patrick Munch.

Leah had taken Rosalie's word of advice and decided to visit LaPush in search of additional witnesses. It hadn't taken the detectives long to find an employee who had worked that night. According to his nametag, the man standing across from the detectives went by the name of Mario.

The young man didn't want to talk to them (most people didn't). He wanted to disappear, but the detectives (and the service counter) more or less had him trapped. He swallowed, stretching out his collar and claimed, "I don't know—"

Leah sighed. Mario wasn't helping his case.

"Please don't lie," Jacob implored. "I hate liars."

Eventually, Mario saw the light. "Yeah, but I don't know him. He's weird, like a gigolo or something," he confessed. "Always coming around with a new guy or chick on his arm. All rich. Oh yeah, he sometimes has another chick with him. Pretty. Like beauty-queen pretty. Haven't seen him or her in like a year."

Leah jotted down the information in her notepad. "Got a name?"

Mario shook his head. "No, but she was Italian. Definitely Italian. Not to sound racist or anything... I'm Italian myself. I can see my people from miles away."

"We're sure you can," Jacob said. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Like I said: a year back," Mario said, leaning over the counter. He was still on guard but visibly more relaxed than before. "It was at night..." He snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah, she was with another girl and guy, Russian, I think. I didn't think much of it. You know, to each their own— Oh wait, I saw that other girl with her, too. The one that was found here all messed up— What's her name? Dahlia?"

"Jessica Stanley," Leah clarified. "AKA Chicago Dahlia."

Mario snapped his fingers and nodded. "Yeah, that's the one." He drew in a breath as his eyes widened in horror. "Look, I had nothing to do with it. I swear! All I was doing was my—"

Jacob put up a hand, cutting off the young man's frantic ramblings. "Hey, man, you're not in trouble," he insisted. "Trust me; I'm not the kind to BS anyone. We just wanna know what the hell's going on around here."

Sighing in relief, Mario removed his cap, ran a hand through his hair, and placed the item back on. "I heard Sullivan's gone because of her," he said. "One day, he's our boss, and the next, he's MIA. There's a rumor going around that he's hiding from the mob." He snorted. "Heck, he might even be dead."

"You don't seem too upset about his disappearance," Leah observed. In truth, she didn't find Mario suspicious. He was just an employee working for a hotel that had been the center of homicidal drama for the past year.

"The guy was an ass," Mario said, scrunching up his face. "All he cared about was the customers which I get. We need customers, but that doesn't mean you always gotta screw your employees over to make customers happy."

"The other man, the one from Russia," Jacob said. "You've seen him before?"

"You mean the mobster?" Marion snorted, adverting his gaze. He tried to play it cool, but his form was stiff again. He blew out some air and quietly responded with, "Yeah..."

"How do you know he was a mobster?"

Mario let out a humorless laugh. "Oh c'mon, you're cops. You know what mobsters are like. Plus, Sullivan was scared shitless of him. That's why that room, number escapes me, always had to be open, always had to be cleaned. Did you know that he made the maids sign NDA's?"

Leah exchanged a look with her partner before asking, "How were the guests behaving, namely the women?"

"Fine," Mario said. "They were laughing, all over each other—the gigolo and some guy, but not the Russian. No, I've never seen him before. Yeah, both guys were sitting on every lady that walked past them."

"And the Dahlia?"

"She was all over him," Mario told Jacob. "Like she was his girl or something. Looked really hot, too, in that little black dress..." he swallowed and grimaced. "Weird thinking about her like that now. Knowing how she died..."

"Why didn't you come forward earlier?" Leah asked. This was information they needed last year. "This is very important info."

"I didn't think it was that useful. I mean, everyone knows she was here," Mario maintained, and then, running a hand down his face, mumbled a string of curses. "Shit, I messed up, didn't I?"

"Use better judgment next time," Leah told him. "Do you know who any of those people work for?"

Mario shook his head. "Nah, and I didn't want to know. I keep my head down. I don't wanna give anyone the chance to start some rumors... My last name's Lucchese, you know, so you can imagine the mob jokes." He rolled his eyes. "May even change it to Luck, like the quarterback."

Jacob handed Mario his business card. "If you find out anything else, no matter how small you think it is, don't hesitate to use put it to use. Alright?"

Mario pocketed the card. "Alright."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

"When did you realize that you were no longer in love with your ex-husband?"

It was a question Leah had asked herself many times and still couldn't provide a clear answer. Maybe because there simply wasn't one. And falling out of love? She barely remembers falling _in_ love with Sam. It happened though; she wouldn't have put up with some of his bullshit (even before the affair) if she hadn't.

"I almost died back in September. Got shot, didn't think I'd make it. Still surprised that I did," Leah eventually confessed to her therapist, Dr. Murad. It wasn't a concrete answer, but it was _something_. This was the first time Leah made an explicit reference to the tunnel incident. It hadn't been her intention. "And during that time, when I was bleeding out against the wall, I thought about everyone—my family, my family, _Jacob_, but… not Sam."

She wouldn't think of him for a while.

"Is that when you became aware of your feelings?"

"No, I'd put two and two together during my recovery," Leah said. "It was… odd. Before the accident, he was always on my mind. He and Emily. I was always asking myself: what did I do wrong? What could I have done better? Why would they do this to me? But… I guess at the time, I had more pressing matters on my hands, including whether I could physically return to my old self with everything's over…"

"Have you?"

"Yes and no."

Dr. Murad nodded. "How do you feel about Sam now?"

"Honestly, I don't give a damn about him," Leah replied without thinking. She was both relieved and frightened by her statement. For the first time, she was telling the truth about Sam's emotional hold on her. "I wish no ill-will on him, because, you know, karma and shit, but besides that?" She shrugged. "Whatever."

"That is a change from our first meeting back in November."

"I know."

"I'm glad to hear it." Dr. Murad checked the clock on the wall and asked, "Same time next week?"

"Same time next week."

* * *

"You remember Marco, yes? Karina's son. You remember Karina, the wife of your father's former partner, lives out in Buffalo Grove, yes? Lovely lady. Very lovely family…"

This was not the conversation Leah was in the mood to have over dinner, but out of genuine respect for her mother, she played along with Sue's game. Her mother meant well, but Leah wasn't interested in being involved with Sue's matchmaking scheme. She barely even wanted a rebound—

No, that wasn't entirely true. A rebound would be nice, just as long as it didn't come with any complications. Which, apparently, was something unattainable for a woman whose life during the past year deserved to have its own reality show. Leah had considered surfing through Tinder, much to Aisha's glee and astonishment, but her interest was short-lived. Blame the numerous criminal cases she had heard about concerning dating apps.

Maybe, she would try again.

"Mom, no."

"Why not?" Sue asked, bringing a hand to her chest. She then gasped, partially surprised, partially offended as if she was making on her daughter dating this Marco. "You're no longer married, and I hear he's a pleasant fellow."

Leah sighed—Marco, even she had to admit, was an attractive guy, an associate at some corporate firm. Their age difference wasn't too drastic, but Leah had met the man once. Nothing clicked, and it was perfectly fine. One day, Sue would understand that.

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer, dear."

Sue didn't pick up on any of her daughter's cues to switch topics. She continued to carry on about Marco and his career, his affinity for swimming, his lovely dark skin, and his dimples—Goodness, Leah was starting to wonder if her mother wanted the man for herself. Which she would certainly be fine with. Seth, on the other hand, would behave like a typical protective son, but he would eventually come around.

"I've only been divorced for a month, mom. A month," Leah said. "I need to spend some time by myself. Without _another_ man."

Sue just sighed.

"Aren't you going to Vegas with _Jacob_?" Seth taunted, wiggling his eyebrows. He laughed when his sister tossed him a string bean, and even more, when Sue scolded her. "He's a man."

"Shut up, Seth," Leah snapped, narrowing her eyes. "He doesn't count."

"Sure, he doesn't," Seth mumbled under his breath. Before Leah could provide her retort and another string bean aimed at her brother's face, Sue interjected, absolutely insistent, "Just one date—"

_Oh no._ Leah had to put her foot down before her mother resorted to something drastic, like sign her up for speed-dating. "No, mom. Play matchmaker with someone else…" She smirked at Seth. Her little brother was playing with fire, and he was about to get burned. "How about your youngest? Haven't heard about a girl in quite some time."

She laughed at her brother's look of anguish and the sound of his groan. "C'mon, Leah," Seth whined, and then quickly turned his attention to Sue, who was seriously considering her eldest child's suggestion. He cleared his throat, looked between the two women in his life, and said, quite desperately, "Look, mom, you know how much I'm swamped with academy stuff…"

Leah gave her brother a look. "Not swamped enough for anime conventions," was her snarky remark, which earned a glare from a young man who wasn't too good at sending them. Leah made a mental note to talk to her brother about that; he was about to become a cop; his glares needed more _heat_.

"They're called comic book conventions," Seth corrected. "Not the same thing."

"Whatever."

The siblings' squabble would eventually end by Sue's insistence. "I'm only looking out for my babies," she said with a glint in her eye aimed at pulling at her children's heartstrings. "I'm not getting any younger. A grandchild would be nice."

Leah and Seth shared a look and groaned.

* * *

Later that night, while the rest of her family was downstairs, Leah called Jacob to discuss her mother's romantic schemes while paying her no mind. "You have to be my wingman," she said without providing much introduction. "Before my mom pairs me up with all of her and my dad's friends' sons."

Instead of words of comfort and sympathy, all Leah received was a burst of laughter.

"Hahaha, you're in the same boat as I am."

In a way, Leah realized, he was right. Rebecca was still adamant about setting her brother up with every single woman she knew. The results weren't the greatest, but Leah had a sinking feeling that it was Jacob's fault—one day, she would have to ask him about it.

Leah rolled her eyes. "Not funny, Jacob."

"Right." Jacob stopped and took a deep breath to curtail all urges to laugh again. "Sorry. How bad is it?"

"My mom thinks that I'm lonely and then mentioned her desire for a grandchild."

"Oh, God."

"Sentiments exactly." Leah ran a hand down her face. "Jacob, think of something. _Please_."

"Leah—oh, hey, didn't we say we were gonna help each other back in February?"

Leah vaguely recalled that. "We did."

"Let's go."

"Now?"

"No, obviously not _now_."

Leah down on her bed. "I'm going to regret this…"

"Save the dramatics for me as I get my ass kicked in a card game," Jacob joked, then, "How about it? Friday night, around Happy Hour? You, me, and some bar that doesn't cater to college kids? Preferably away from Wicker Park?"

"Pick the place, Detective."

* * *

"What if I decide to phase during… you know?"

The thought had come to Leah's mind at an inopportune time, while she and Jacob waited for Aisha and Embry to arrive at LaPush. It was more than a year since Jessica had been found in the executive suite, but it was still a crime scene.

Jacob did a double-take. "I've never heard about that happening," he insisted. "And trust me when I say this: I've seen and heard some crazy shit."

"But that doesn't mean it will _never_ happen."

"Hey, ninety-nine percent of the time, we can only shift for the first time during a full moon, which isn't going to make an appearance for another two weeks. Friday is only a couple of days away. Leah, for heaven's sake, you'll be fine."

"Ninety-nine isn't one hundred."

"_Leah_."

"Jacob."

Jacob let out a sigh. "We don't have to do this."

"No, we're going to," Leah declared, stomping her foot for added measure. At the corner of her eye, she could see Aisha and Embry congregating in the elevator bank. "As we said before: we're not looking for second spouses. We're looking to get laid."

* * *

"You have to admit, this is embarrassing even for us," Jacob would say days later as he and Leah lounged on his couch while aimlessly watching Below Deck on TV and sharing a gallon of ice cream. "Right now, we should have our tongues down someone's throat, not here acting like we just got dumped… on a goddamn Friday night."

Leah lifted her legs and shifted around the couch until she was comfortable. She took a scoop of ice cream before handing it to Jacob; they were sharing it, half and half; Leah preferred the vanilla side while Jacob, the cookie dough (despite the abundance of chocolate chips, which Jacob "claimed" would not affect him). "We can try Jared's cousin's best friend's party in Logan Square?"

Jacob snorted. "I try not to interact with hipsters."

"They're not hipsters," Leah argued, though not convincingly. "I'm sure it'll be fun."

"I rather stay here."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

"You're welcome—I just don't get it. I thought chicks dig the supernatural? That's what the movies and the romance novels always told us."

"I'm pretty sure they were only referring to vampires, which we're not. And hey, what about the guys? I need some loving too."

"Men are simple beings, Leah," Jacob said with a shrug. "I keep telling you that."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It wouldn't take much, Leah, trust me."

Leah scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Are you insinuating that I wasn't looking hard enough? Or maybe it was my resting-bitch-face that everyone claims that I have?"

"I don't think you have one," Jacob said, sincere. "You just look like you don't fuck around. Nothing wrong with that."

"Apparently, it can scare people away."

"You know some people get turned on by that," Jacob pointed out.

"_My God_," Leah groaned, tossing a stray piece of tissue at her partner, earning a laugh.

"What, it's true!" Jacob maintained, grinning, and then, quite solemnly, "I think I've been outta the game for way too long—You think that's my problem?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You had a date like a week ago."

"Yeah, but Rebecca arranged it. Not the same," Jacob said, then vowed before shoving another spoonful of cookie dough ice into his mouth. "Next time. We'll do better next time."

"We'll have better luck in Vegas," Leah promised before silently thanking her partner for the dessert. Her luck-track record was a little better than Jacob's—she had accepted numbers here and there—but no one had caught her eye long enough to make a move. "We're going soon, remember? In three weeks."

Goodness, it couldn't come soon enough.

Jacob nodded, grinning. "Ah, right."

"By the way, you're not allowed to sit at the casino tables," Leah commanded, pointing her spoon at her partner. "Losing your savings, your car, and your rent money won't do you any good. And I still have to search for a place to live, so I can't really lend you any money."

"Oh, c'mon, Leah. I ain't that bad."

Leah gave Jacob a deadpanned look.

"Okay, _maybe_ I need to improve my skills."

"Go on YouTube," Leah suggested with a little snark. "They have how-to videos for everything."

Jacob playfully rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Leah, for your _invaluable_ assistance."

"Don't mention it—Hey, I got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Look, even I have to admit, you're not a bad-looking guy. You have a personality," Leah said, eyes glued to the television, not that she was paying much attention it. "And besides during UNO games, you're not a baby." That earned a groan from her partner. "Why can't you go beyond date number one? Like that girl from last week, she liked you. I'm pretty sure you liked her. You looked cute together."

"I can't believe you were there."

"I wasn't _there_," Leah said, then revised, "Okay, I was, but that was only because my mom wanted to eat there for dinner. Why didn't you tell me you were going to that particular restaurant? I could've steered my mom in a different direction."

Jacob brought a hand to his chest, dramatic. "Oh, now it's _my_ fault."

"Yes." Leah nodded. "Don't change the subject."

Jacob handed the ice cream back to Leah. He didn't meet her eyes. "I know what I want."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"Contrary to what everyone thinks, I do."

Leah never considered Jacob to be an indecisive person; he just wasn't good at voicing his opinions concerning his personal life. It came here and there, usually over a round of wolfbane-infused beers, but... Leah knew that shape-shifters could sense each other's emotions, especially those in the same pack. Reading Paul, Embry, Jared, and even Quill was never an issue. But Jacob? Nothing but mixed signals. It was nothing too concerning, she supposed. For instance, she knew he cared about her (he didn't put much effort into hiding it) and valued their friendship and partnership—

She didn't know how to explain it.

But then again, the pack apparently felt the same way about her. Leah got it; she wasn't the most emotionally... expressive person. Or maybe _hadn't been_. She had definitely expressed herself after discovering Sam and Emily's affair.

"And what exactly _do_ you want?"

The question, at face value, wasn't the most invasive thing Leah had ever asked Jacob, but she still wished she hadn't asked it in the first place. It was supposed to be a fun night, nothing too serious, nothing too dramatic. They were simply watching mindless television and eating ice cream.

Jacob didn't shy away from the question, though. "Not them, that's for sure." He sighed and tried again. "They're nothing wrong with them. Any of them. It just didn't feel like… you know, _right_."

Leah nodded. Yeah, she knew. She had experienced the same feeling with some of her previous boyfriends. One who had seen perfect, but not to her. "And the sabotage?"

"Contrary to what you and Bec want to believe, I'm not sabotaging a damn thing. I swear," Jacob said, and then, "Hey, what about you? I saw some guys handing you their numbers. Not all bad. Except for that douchey-looking the guy, the one who claimed to be a producer."

"He was cute, though," Leah said with a shrug. "Eh, I'll wait for Vegas. You know the saying: what happens in Vegas…"

"Stays in Vegas," Jacob finished, and then, teasing, "Let's hope you've phased before then. We don't want you scaring the shit outta your boyfriend for the night and causing a national emergency. Won't be a good look for your fellow supernatural brethren."

Leah was tempted to flick a spoonful of ice cream at her partner, but instead, she chose a more mature route, "Fuck you, Jacob."

He laughed.

* * *

"What would you like for today?"

"Mani-pedi, please."

"Regular?"

"Yes, for both."

"Pick a color. We'll be with you shortly."

Leah thanked the receptionist and approached the large display of nail polishes. Her eyes roamed around the never-ending bottles of color. So many options: regular, long-lasting, gel—It was admittedly overwhelming.

She never truly understood the fascination of getting her nails done. Sure, it was important that they, both hands and feet, were properly groomed. Cut at the right length, filed into the right shape— but was something she could do at home. She had sturdy enough hands and enough precision.

But she was here on a Saturday morning, standing in the middle of the nail salon, located in downtown Evanston because she wanted to do something new. 2019 would be the year of "stepping out of her comfort zone". Plus, Aisha had sworn up and down that the trip would be nice for her friend; it would give Leah a chance to relax. Let someone take care of her, even if it was something trivial like tending to her nails.

After the eighteen months Leah had, she needed all of the relaxation she could get.

"You need help?"

Leah looked to her a left where an older woman stood, a few feet from her. Judging from her attire, she must be one of the nail techs.

"It's been a while," she admitted, and then asked, "Which one will look good on me?"

The nail tech, "Anita", according to her name tag, studied Leah for a moment, up and down, raising an eyebrow occasionally and nodded when it seemed she came to a decision. "You know what is good about your skin? Tan, darker... the colors will pop out. Neutrals are okay, but colors. Yes, colors are good."

"I work in an office. Don't want it to be too distracting."

Anita nodded, understanding. "You want lowkey."

"Yeah, but something different. I've been so used to doing the same thing over and over again..."

"How about this?" The nail tech offered. The color was a cross between orange and pink. But a little lighter—perhaps, salmon-color. It was a pretty shade. "It is color, but not as, you know, bright. Do you work with your hands a lot?"

Leah nodded.

"Then get powder. Good for two to three weeks, no chipping. Guarantee. It costs a bit more, but it's worth it."

"Two to three weeks, you say?"

"You can even do it longer, but I wouldn't. Your nails will grow a lot. It won't look nice."

Leah had only come to the salon for something simple—she checked out the prices. Having the powder, or "SNS," according to the pricing poster, would cost twenty more dollars, but in the long run, she supposed it wouldn't make that much of a difference. She shrugged, defeated but not upset. "Oh, what the hell. Powder, it is. But only for my hands."

"Of course," Anita said, smiling. She motioned her customer to follow her. "Just for your hands. No one puts powder on the toes." She gestured at the pedicure chair closest to the window. "Sit."

Moments later, Leah found herself sitting in the chair, leaning back as she tried to choose the right bottom on the remote control, connected to the furniture with a wire; it controlled the "massage" function. She could end up selecting a fifteen-minute back massage, vibrations, low intensity. It was the safest action.

Leah looked down at Anita, slightly embarrassed. "No. You can tell?"

"Your feet are fine," Anita said, sincere. "A little rough on the heel, but I've seen worse." Her eyes drew together. "But you, you look… uncomfortable. Out of place. Sit back and relax, my dear."

"I'm trying," Leah insisted. "I've been trying to find ways to slow down. Have peace, you know?"

Anita nodded as she went to work. "You want peace? And to relax? You should get a massage."

Leah scoffed. "Another ploy to make me spend more money?"

She hated the statement as soon as it came out. She didn't mean to be so standoffish; sometimes, her sarcasm didn't translate well—she added a small smile which Anita matched before letting out a little chuckle. "What we provide here, you don't need," she admitted as she motioned Leah to take both feet out of the small tub. "You need a real massage. The one that costs money." She rubbed her fingers together, making a money sign. "A spa."

"To relax?"

Anita nodded. "I'm only doing your feet, but I can feel the tenseness." She shook her head, applying some lotion, starting from Leah's shins. "Stressful job?"

"Stressful life."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I work for the city."

"Ah, government job. My son works in one." Anita smiled, proud. "Federal government."

"Nice."

"So, yes, to the spa?"

Leah nodded.

* * *

"Yeah... right there."

Leah grinned at a particular hard knead. Jacob wasn't exactly gentle, and she _loved_ it. She didn't need gentle; she needed the muscles in her back and shoulders to loosen up, for the knots to go away. To relax, just like Anita (and everyone else) said.

"Good?"

Jacob was teasing her, but she'd let it slide for the time being. Jacob, as promised, had fifteen minutes to go; she could wait until then. "Good."

She let out a satisfied sigh as she draped herself along the back of the chair, eyes shut, breathing controlled. Her position wasn't the most comfortable; the edges of the wooden weren't doing her inner thighs _any_ favors, but Leah placed those concerns on the backburner. Jacob's hands were doing wonders to her back and shoulders. Not that she would tell him that; he'd never live it down, somehow mention it to the rest of the pack, and she wouldn't hear the end of it.

"You're tight," Jacob remarked. There was still humor in his voice, but it was overshadowed by concern. As usual—Leah wondered if Jacob would even care for his well-being as much as hers, but that wasn't a road she wanted to travel at the moment. "What the hell have you been doing?"

"The same thing you've been doing: investigating shit. And of course, there are other things—" Leah's grumble turned into a low guttural moan as soon as Jacob pressed harder, sending a chill up her back. _"Fuck_."

Jacob stopped his ministrations. "Did I—"

"No, no," Leah insisted, stretching her hand back to tap Jacob on the wrist; she wanted him to continue. "That was good. Real good. Focus there."

"Why are you so good at this?"

Jacob laughed before kneading a particular spot in Leah's lower back, earning an appreciative groan. He repeated the action, gradually adding more pressure. "My mom. Her back would always give her fits. She used to make us walk on her back. Scared the shit of me. I mean, what if I moved the wrong way? I'd be responsible for messing up my own mother's back—but she swore by it."

"Looks like I came to the right place."

"I thought the nail lady said to go to a spa," Jacob retorted, but without any heat. "Which, if you haven't noticed, my apartment is not."

"Just go lower," Leah demanded, straightening herself in her seat as she felt Jacob move down her back. She wasn't going to lie; it felt good. After her partner's hands found the right, sensitive place, Leah bit back a groan, "I _am_ going to one, thank you, but not for another week."

"You want me to walk on your back?"

Leah stole a glance, curious. "How quickly can my spine heal, just in case?"

"Don't know. Never broke it."

"Ah, don't want to test it."

"Good plan."

"Go back up."

"Yes, ma'am."

_This is nice_, Leah thought, sighing contently as she folded her arms on top of the back of the chair and rested her chin. Jacob's focus was once again on her shoulders, lessening in intensity.

There was a time when Sam used to do this. Sometimes, even weekly. His hands had been gentler, nothing like the force behind Jacob's. At the time, she had appreciated them; gentle had been what she needed _then_. Sam whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he moved his hands up and down her arms, legs, and back had been what she needed then. Sam—

"Hey, I thought I told you to relax."

Jacob's sharp words forced Leah out of her ill-advised trance. She wanted to thank him for that, but instead went on the defensive, "I am."

"Yeah, tell that your shoulders." He paused for a moment, resting his hands on his partner's upper back. "What's wrong?"

Leah looked straight ahead and sighed. "Sam used to do this."

Jacob snorted. "Are you seriously thinking about that man right now?"

"I had a flashback, that's all," Leah replied quietly, closing her eyes. Jacob started up again, now rubbing firm circles along her shoulder blades. Time was almost up, she realized, dreading the moment the alarm would. She didn't want to ask Jacob for more time; though she was positive that he would likely oblige her wishes, the man had done enough for her. More than he could ever know.

"Ah, there it is," Jacob remarked; Leah didn't need to turn around to see his smile. "Finally loosening up. Try not to think of Sam, will you? He's not worth the increase in blood pressure."

He was right, Leah realized, but that didn't mean she wouldn't toss him some snark. "Since when can you _notice _blood pressure levels of other people?"

Jacob scoffed. "Your heart rate."

"Ah." Leah deeply breathed. "Thank you for this. You don't even know how much I needed this. I owe you."

Jacob squeezed both of Leah's shoulders before patting them, signaling he was done. "All I need from you is to be yourself and not let your ex, your cousin, or this goddamn city drive you crazy."

_It's kinda too late for them,_ Leah thought.

"I'll try."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

"If I decide to strategically ignore my phone calls for the rest of the day, would that count as me not doing my job?"

Jacob looked up from his notes, and then covering the desk phone speaker with a hand, asked seriously, "Do you want me to pick it up for you?"

Leah shook her head. Jacob was her partner, not her damn secretary.

She stared down at the device, flashing with every single—she was getting sick and tired of it. Ever since arriving at the station a few hours ago, her life consisting of drinking bad coffee, picking up the phone, jotting down information, and slamming it down. Ten minutes, that was all she wanted to herself without talking to anyone (save for a selected few, present company included). Was that too hard to ask?

Goodness, now she sounded like a spoiled brat.

She ended up picking up the phone, ready to make the conversation as short as professionally possible until she recognized the voice on the other line. She selected the speaker button and snapped her fingers to get her partner's attention. "Good morning, Mario, what's going on?"

Jacob ended his own phone call and listened on, just as interested as his partner.

This wasn't the first time the LaPush employee called. Mario was suffering from a case of "feeling unnecessarily guilty" due to withholding pertinent case information from authorities until a year after the act. "Withholding" might be a little strong. But in any case, Mario's guilt was useful because now, more than ever, he was ready to spill the beans on the happenings at LaPush. Despite only being a part-time employee, he worked closely with customer service; he knew who was listen out for the latest drama without anything suspecting a thing—

To be honest, Leah had considered asking Paul to invite Mario to teach an "eavesdropping" seminar; some of her colleagues needed lessons, _desperately_.

"You should talk to Adam Lassiter," Mario suggested in a low voice. From the sound of it, he was inside a closet. "We call him Lassie, like the dog. He's the main concierge. If there's anyone who would know about the hotel and shady guest request, it'd be him."

"Thanks," Leah said, jotting down the information. "Is he in?"

"Nah, he's in Brazil for the rest of the month."

The detectives shared an exasperated look.

Of course, he was.

"How convenient," Jacob remarked, running a hand down his face. "Thanks, man," and then, after the call ended, slammed a fist on the desk. "How the fuck did we miss this?"

"We did speak to a concierge, just not the right one, apparently," Leah replied. It was frustrating, but they there only "human"; they were bound to miss something, no matter how many years of experience were between them. "I don't remember seeing Adam Lassiter's names on the employee roster. Maybe he works under the table?"

* * *

"Thank you for doing this. I know you have other shit to do, especially with the Fangs being _them_," Leah told Martinez the following day as she pulled up a chair to the other detective's desk. Earlier, she had asked him to run checks on some names discovered at the DuPont's office. The names were determined to be linked to employees, stemming back to the nineties.

"Nah, no hay problema," Martinez insisted. "We gotta help each other out, right?"

Leah nodded. "Right." She pulled out a list from her pocket and began to each out each name. "Marta Rivera. Born in '82, Colombia."

"Nothing."

"Raffaele Marzano. Born in '89, Argentina."

"Nothing."

"Zhang Hua. Born in '87, Singapore."

"Currently residing inside a Chinese prison for drug trafficking and possible gang affiliations."

_Wow_, Leah thought. Heidi sure knew how to choose them. She marked Zhang as a "former employee", given that, for the past four years, she belonged to a foreign country's justice system.

"Thomas James. Born in '90, United States."

"Lives in Cali. An aspiring actor," Martinez said. He pulled out a photocopy of Thomas' portrait and handed it to Leah.

She studied it. She had seen him before, as an extra in Law and Order, or some other police show (how ironic). She handed the photo back. "Mark this guy. We'll look more into him since he's _not_ a foreign national."

"Will do. Next?"

"Tatiana Petrovna. Born in '91, Something-Oblast, Russia."

Martinez raised an eyebrow, amused. "Something-Oblast?"

"I'm not even going to _try_ to pronounce the word," Leah said. "I don't speak Russian," and then, "Well?"

"Nothing. How old is this list, anyway?"

"Dated June 2008."

"So, more than ten years ago?"

Leah nodded. "Yeah."

She understood Martinez's doubts; ten years was a long time, but if the investigation gods loved her like people claimed they did, she might be able to strike gold. Or silver. At this stage of the game, she and Jacob couldn't afford to be too picky.

Martinez sighed. "How many employees did you and Jacob find?"

"Fifty-seven, stemming back to the nineties," Leah replied. "So, we can assume that Heidi started her _match-making_ business around that time. The names I gave you so far are some of the younger employees."

"Human?"

Leah shrugged. "Have no clue. I don't even know if that's the employees' real name."

"Well, Thomas James is a real person. We can get something on him, but I'm gonna have to reach out to some buddies out west. He's in California; that's a big ass state."

"Thanks."

"They're gonna also want the scoop. I know we're trying to keep this BS in house, but from what I've been hearing, more agencies are gonna get involved, including the feds."

"I know." Leah sighed, and then, sincere. "Thanks, Martinez, for everything. Really."

"No problema. The soon this investigation is over, the easier everyone's lives will be."

"You think we're going to see the end?" Leah asked, doubting so herself. "It's like every single goddamn time we turn around, a new bombshell drops."

"Keeps us on our toes, doesn't it?"

Leah smiled and thanked the detective. After, she texted Jacob a reminder that they had to leave for Cook County Jail in ten minutes. To her utmost surprise, Sam had arranged a meeting with Patrick Munch, the man who had accepted a guilty plea for attempted murder in exchange for a lighter sentence.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Patrick. This is Detective Clearwater and Detective Black," Sam announced, gesturing at the other detectives. He walked further inside the prison's interview room. "They want to ask you some questions, and given the conditions of your plea bargain, you have to answer them."

"Oh, look who decided to visit. Miss me already?"

It was the first time Leah had seen the recently-incarcerated convict in person. She could see why so many people were interested in Patrick's company. Despite obviously having a rough time in Cook Country, he was an attractive guy; he breathed confidence despite his unfortunate state as an inmate.

"Just answer the damn questions."

Patrick placed his shackled hands on the desk. He might not be happy about the arrangement, but he wasn't putting up a fight. He shrugged. "Let's get this over with."

"He's all yours," Sam declared to his colleagues with a smirk.

While Sam remained positioned near the room entrance, Leah and Jacob pulled a chair to the table where Patrick sat, starting at the detectives through wary eyes. Jacob sat next to Leah, arms crossed, narrowed eyes solely on the convict; he was assuming the role of the "bad cop", Leah realized. A role that used to be exclusively reserved for her (due to her less than stellar, unfair reputation) until Jacob rolled around. It was nice to switch gears once in a while. Less pressure on her.

"Good morning, Mr. Munch," Leah started, getting her notepad and pen ready. They were only here for twenty minutes. No time for pleasantries, no time for bullshit. And therefore, the detective went straight for the kill. "What was the nature of your relationship with Gianna Castellano?"

"She was my girl," Patrick replied smoothly, winking. He caught Jacob's sharpened glare and dropped his laid-back persona. "Sort of. It was complicated. Like an open-relationship."

"How long were you together?" Leah asked.

"Off and on for three years."

"I see." Leah jotted down the information. "Where were you on the night of January 15, 2018?"

The detectives knew, from video evidence, Patrick hadn't been in the hotel room at the time of Jessica's death. The only other people in the room had been Demetri and Gianna.

Leah picked up on the convict's alarm, but his usual calm demeanor quickly replaced it. "I was on a date," was his simple reply.

"Be more specific," Jacob implored.

Patrick huffed. "I was on a date with my girlfriend—"

"This isn't the time," Sam snapped from across the room.

"Okay, fine. Damn," Patrick said, dropping his smirk. "I was at LaPush. It was a date, like a group date. It was Gianna and me Jessica and her man. And another dude, but he was there on business."

"What kind of business?" Leah asked.

Patrick's eyes roamed around the room, losing focus, nervous. This was a question he didn't want to answer, but Sam, through his steely stare, wouldn't allow him to stay quiet. "Plea bargain," the detective sharply reminded the inmate."

The convict let out a defeated sigh and dropped his shoulders. "I don't know. He had some stuff with him—I don't know what the hell they were, but everyone called them UV's. Like little lights in containers. Selling or buying? I didn't stick around to ask. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss."

"What do you do for a living?"

Patrick shrugged, nonchalant." Serial dater. I keep the ladies and the fellas happy. That's all."

"So, a gigolo."

"We didn't always fuck," Patrick replied. His smirk returned. "Like I said: serial dater."

_Is that what they call it now?_ Leah thought, stifling a snort. Despite his objections, Patrick wasn't being coy at all.

"What was the nature of your relationship with Demetri?" She showed Patrick the man in question; from the way his eyes widened, even for a split second, Patrick recognized the deceased mobster.

"He liked to have fun," Patrick said with a nonchalant shrug. Or at least, that was what he wanted to portray. Leah could smell the man's underlying fear. "So, we had fun."

"Like what?" Jacob asked.

Patrick looked at the detective, slightly amused, predominately surprised. "You really want the details?" He let out a humorless laugh. "He was a freak. He was into freaky shit—It is what it is."

Leah pulled out another picture from her folder and held it up. "What about him?"

Patrick took one look at the photo. "My God," he groaned, throwing his head back. "Why don't you just ask me for my client list, will ya?"

"So, you are a gigolo," Jacob accused.

"I didn't mean it like _that_. I met a lot of people. People who wanted to have a good time with a good-time kind of guy. Nothing wrong with that."

"There isn't," Leah said. "When criminals aren't involved. So, you had an affair with him, too?"

"I wouldn't call it that," Patrick said, grimacing at the photo. "He—Gaius, Caius—was an added feature, I guess you can say. He had a thing with Demetri. I didn't ask more about it; that guy scares the shit outta me. I wanted to keep my head."

"You are aware of his affiliation?"

"Yeah, he's a mob boss, and Demetri was one of his minions."

"I've noticed you've been referring to Demetri in the past tense."

"Yeah, 'cause he's dead."

"The media didn't report it," Jacob said, narrowing his eyes. He was picking up cues from the man that Leah wasn't. "Nothing online, no in the papers. We wanted it that way. How the hell did you know, _and_ what do you know?"

"The man was in the _mob_. The mob doesn't provide much job _or_ life security. And I don't know shit."

Leah switched gears. "Patrick, you seem like a smart guy. Give us a theory about what happened, starting from that night at LaPush."

"Look, we went to a club to celebrate Jessica's birthday. I didn't know the girl very well, but Gianna kinda did. She was the one who invited me to the goddamn thing. It'll be fun, they said. You'll be able to meet some good people with lots of money, they said." He snorted. "You know, I would've appreciated if they were honest with me. I'm down for almost anything, including some group-action."

"I thought you said it was a date," Jacob challenged.

"Dates can end with happy endings."

"About that night," Leah reminded the convict.

"Right." Patrick nodded. "Everything was normal. It was just the four of us until another guy met at us at the hotel. Like I alluded to before, I didn't know him. But he was a… yeah, an Asian guy. Tall dude. But like not from China, but like… I don't know, from the Pacific? You know what I mean?"

Patrick wasn't the most eloquent man, Leah concluded. "Yeah, we do," she said. "Carry on."

"He knew everyone but me," Patrick said. "Demetri referred to him as Dutch."

Leah wrote the name down as Jacob asked, "Did Dutch participate in this little orgy, too?"

Patrick shook his head. "It was only business with him," he said. "I don't even know why he was there. I mean, couldn't they take their business somewhere else?"

"Why did you leave the room?" Jacob asked. "You mentioned that you weren't there when Jessica died. Why weren't you?"

"Because I wasn't gonna be a witness to a deal going down," Patrick confessed. "Call me a chicken; I don't give a damn. Dutch was armed. Demetri was armed. Gianna… she was cool at first but had that wild look in her eyes. I wasn't about to get involved."

"What was Jessica like?"

"Look, she was hot, but she wasn't the brightest bulb in the box," Patrick said. "She probably thought it was all cool and shit. She liked that fast life."

"You've met her."

"Only a few times, but she left an impression." Patrick's gaze dropped to the table as he sighed. "I didn't know that… was going to go down. Jessica, and then Gianna?" He shook his head. "We were only supposed to be having fun, celebrating Jessica's birthday. Not _this_."

"Why didn't you come to us earlier?" Jacob asked as soon as Patrick finished explaining how he didn't know why and how Jessica and Gianna died and what happened to the fifth person, the dealer, who had seemingly disappeared when Jessica and Demetri became _well_-_aquatinted_ with each other.

Patrick bit his lip.

"My boss told me not to."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Your boss?"

"Sonya DuPont," Patrick said quickly, instantly regretting his decision. He was scared of Heidi, Leah concluded, by the way, he trembled in this seat, a sharp contrast to his previous confident demeanor. "Look, I didn't kill anyone. Not Jessica, not Gianna. No one. You have to trust me. Me, killing?" he shook his head. "No."

"You pleaded guilty for attempted murder," Jacob carefully reminded Patrick.

"If you didn't do it," Leah asked. "Who do you think did?"

"I honestly don't know," Patrick replied, honest. "I mean like I said: Jessica was a nice girl, she made questionable decisions, and that's coming from a guy like me. She was messing with a couple of powerful men at the same time. That _can't_ end well."

"You were messing with a couple of powerful folks as well," Jacob pointed out.

Patrick rolled his eyes. "I don't mess with married men or women. Too much drama. _Way_ too much drama." He grimaced. "I heard that boyfriend's number one's wife wasn't too happy about their dalliances, even warned Jessica a few times to keep her distance, but Jessica thought she could handle it. Thought she could handle her."

_Esme_, once again. The woman who seemingly had her hand in anything, but not enough to arrest. The matriarch was slowing getting on Leah's last nerve. Something had to something; someone had to make a mistake somewhere, somehow.

"You met the wife?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah, once," Patrick said. "Nice lady. I'm telling you, a sweetheart. But she had that—you know when you look at someone, and you know that if you cross her, you'll end up in a ditch? That was her. My boss, Mrs. DuPont, warned us about steering clear of the wife. But Jessica decided to run to another competitor, Alistair, to get what she wanted?"

"Why did she want Carlisle so badly?" Leah asked. This was getting interested. She had been under the assumption that Jessica had been randomly paired with the Cullen patriarch when in fact, the woman had actually _sought_ him out.

Patrick shrugged _again_—it was a habit of his, Leah observed as the man rolled his shoulders, trying to sit as comfortably as he could under the detectives' stern gazes. "Beats me. Yeah, the man was hot. Really hot. But his wife has a loyal following. People would _die_ for her. You don't mess with fire like that."

The interview carried for the next ten minutes. Patrick's information was valuable; all the detectives had to do was verify it. Leah would like to think the meeting was successful, but then again, it wasn't. The detectives had come to the prison to get some answers, only to leave with even more questions—why was Dutch there? Did he know Esme? Was this arrangement a trap? What the hell happened to Gianna? How was Adam Lassiter involved? And why on Earth did Jessica want Carlisle? He couldn't have just been some rich guy, ready mingle and spoil.

Leah's head hurt thinking about it, and judging on the glances Jacob sent her way, he shared her sentiments. Eventually, Patrick was led out of the interview room by a corrections officer. Once he was gone, Leah did the last thing she would ever think she would have to do: thank her ex-husband.

Even Sam was surprised by Leah's words. He didn't make a big deal out of it due to professionalism, and the sharp look Jacob was sending his way. Instead, he simply said, "Don't mention it," and then, trying to make light of the situation. "He's a piece of work, isn't he?"

Jacob's glare dissipated, but not by much.

_So are you_, Leah thought, but instead forced a smile. Professionalism was key, personal feelings, be damned. "So, this is case officially closed? Lucky you."

"It's been over a year, and you guys are still stuck." Sam shook his head, sounding sympathetic. "I bet you didn't think it was going to be this complicated, huh?"

"It's Chicago," Jacob said. "At least, we got some confirmation that Heidi's pimping people out—"

"It's not pimping," Leah corrected, sarcastic. "It's match-making."

"Is that really the excuse she gave you?" Sam asked.

Leah nodded. "She's also a piece of work," and then, "We need to find the identity of that fifth person, the arms dealer. The one called Dutch; I'm sure that's not his real name. I know he left before the shit hit the fan, but he's one of the last people to see Jessica alive."

"And roads are leading up to Esme, but we can't find a damn link to put her away," Jacob grumbled, "Just because she was a scorned wife, didn't mean she arranged Jessica's death—"

"Unless someone did it for her." Sam offered. "Knew how much she hated Jessica and thought to do their matriarch a favor. Someone who had a connection to the Volturi or LaPush. Someone who could get inside that room in such a short amount of time and cut her up before dipping."

"Mario," Leah said to Jacob. "Remember he mentioned that guy? Lassiter, the one who did favors for LaPush's customers. He must know something about that night."

"Yeah, but he's in Brazil."

Leah put her hands on her hips. "Can we persuade him to come back to the states?"

"We can ask."

* * *

The detective would ask Paul later that afternoon. Unfortunately, despite their valiant efforts, Paul wasn't too keen about the extradition plan. He, to the utmost surprise of everyone, was being _careful_. "We need something strong," he told the detectives, serious. "Allegedly knowing about two homicides and an arms deal isn't it."

"We've received information from a source that's he involved in shady business relating to LaPush," Jacob argued. "He's worked with the Volturi, the _Volturi_—isn't there a RICO statute we can use?"

Paul leaned back in his seat and placed his hands behind his head. "Detective, have you forgotten that we ain't the feds?"

Leah sighed. Sadly, Paul had a point. "Then bring the feds in," she offered, not believing she was saying those words. "I mean, they're already involved in the investigation. Sure, they've pulled back significantly, but I'm sure when we tell about Heidi, sorry, _Mrs. DuPont_, they'll be interested again."

Paul sat up. "She's involved in prostitution—"

"Across state lines," Leah provided. "Which is a federal crime."

"Plus," Jacob added. "Extortion, money laundering, and—"

Paul cut Jacob off. "I thought we were talking about Adam Lassiter, not Mrs. DuPont?"

"He must have met her at some point," Jacob suggested. "Her employees use the LaPush Hotel for their… dates. He allegedly knows everything about that. "

"Yeah, _allegedly,_" Paul pointed out. "Do we have actual proof?"

Leah and Jacob shook their heads.

It was frustrating, Leah had to admit. She could practically taste the end of the investigation at the tip of her tongue. But Paul, although the pain in the ass at the moment, was right. Allegations didn't work in the court of law. Evidence did.

"As I said, give me something stronger, something concrete. Extradition isn't something to mess with. It involves too many damn people," Paul explained. "Just because the guy's shady, doesn't mean we can rain on his parade, guns and badges blazing and all, without some proof. If we're not careful, everyone, their moms, and their lawyers will have our heads."

* * *

When Ben stopped by the station a few days later for his unofficially weekly check-in, Leah and Jacob asked him about Lassiter. They handed the agent all of the information they could gather on the hotel employee.

"Yeah, I know this guy," Ben said, skimming through the pages, nodding occasionally. Soon after, he handed the files back to the detectives. "People call him: Nego, short for Negotiator. Rather cheesy, in my opinion, but I don't make those calls. You said he's in Brazil?"

The detectives nodded.

"Until May," Leah clarified. "Anything you can do? Our jurisdiction is pretty limited."

Ben shook his head. "You didn't hear this from me, but the feds, including my people, have him on their radar due to his connections to a human and arms trafficking ring. We didn't get anything concrete until after Nego left the country, but he's fucked the moment he gets off a plane in an American airport."

The detectives shared a look.

"They're waiting to arrest him," Jacob concluded.

"They don't want to startle any of his buddies," Ben said with a shrug. "I can let you know when things go down, but besides that, can't do much else until he's in federal prison, waiting for a court decision."

"Who's arresting him?" Leah asked.

"The Bureau. It's a joint initiative with the ATF." Ben then sighed, apologetic. "I know it's not what you wanted, but—"

Jacob put up a hand, cutting off the agent. "We get it. Just let us talk to him when the dust clears, will you?"

"See how it goes, but most likely, there shouldn't be a problem."

"Hey, you worked with the Volturi, right? Heard of Heidi Baumgartner or according to official records, Sonya DuPont?" Leah asked the agent. "She's under investigation, officially for running a brothel, unofficially for her involvement with the Volturi. Released on bail last week."

"Oh, _Heidi_," The agent grimaced—he knew exactly who that woman was, Leah observed. He must have encountered her during his time undercover. After all, he was spying on both the Olympic _Coven_ and the Volturi. "Or should I say, Sonya DuPont."

Leah tried not to smile in triumph. Heidi was known to the feds, as well. Wonderful. "Yes, that one. So, you know her?"

"Wasn't she investigated for possible connections to her husband's convenient murder? I think she did it."

"Yeah, that's a strong possibility," Jacob said. "She's an interesting lady. Even hired the marvelous Miss Hale as her defense lawyer."

"Oh, she's going hard, I see." Ben rolled his eyes. His encounters with Heidi must not have been pleasant; Leah had never seen the man so annoyed, not even when he spoke about Demetri. "She used to be Demetri's partner in crime until the Volturi ran her out for screwing up a honeypot job back in '08. Since then, she's been doing everything in her power to remain in their good graces, to get reinstated, but it's never going to happen."

Both Leah's and Jacob's eyes widened before they shared a look.

"They're playing her," Jacob concluded.

Ben nodded. "Like you wouldn't believe. But they're going be in the game for as long as they possibly could. They're getting something out of it."

"And she doesn't know," Leah said. "That she's doing all of this for nothing."

"Sad, isn't it?" Ben replied without much sympathy. It was an odd reaction, coming from a man who generally empathized with _everyone_. "If she weren't such a bitch—sorry, _witch_, I would've felt bad for her."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

"Why did you decide to become the captain of the Voldemort Unit?" Leah asked one morning over light breakfast with her captain. It was a slow start of the day. "Do you not love your life? Your blood pressure? Your _sanity_?"

Paul laughed. He was relaxed, unheard of at this time of the morning. But he hadn't had his obligatory conversation with his higher up's, lawyer, and the feds. "I used to work in gangs," he started and then paused to bite a bite of his bacon. "Honestly? It wasn't something I wanted at first. I'm more of a simple-homicides kinda guy. But then, you know how it goes: got transferred after a year, worked my way up in the West Side, and before you know it, I was up for captain. I was supposed to remain out west with Martinez... but then, Saint Patrick's happened."

Saint Patrick's had changed so many things, especially careers.

"How did you get involved in that mess in the first place?"

"It was a massive investigation, practically involved everyone, including you, though to a lesser extent."

"True."

"I was asked because, apparently, I can get people to listen to orders. And a natural leader." Paul smirked. "One of my finer qualities."

Leah snorted. "Dropping f-bombs in every sentence is a good sign of a leader?"

"Hey, sometimes, f-bombs are necessary," Paul defended. "And I don't do that, all the time. I can be professional. I know my boundaries."

Leah couldn't deny that. "Of course… Well, I'm glad you're the captain. You get things done."

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Paul let out a dramatic gasp. "Getting soft, Clearwater?"

"Shut up." Leah gave the captain a half-heartened glare. "I'm serious."

"I do appreciate your kind words," Paul grinned." I'm trying to do my best. Making sure this unit doesn't get disbanded. Making sure no one dies." He narrowed his eyes. "Don't think I forgot about your little stunt in the tunnels? Luckily for you, Jacob would've lost his shit if you had died. He did what he had to do, and now, you're here."

"I'm sure he would've been fine."

"Ha, obviously you don't know the man as much as I do. When he gets attached, he gets attached and becomes a mother-hen instantly."

Leah scoffed, then, with a smirk, "Is that why he bit you?"

"Of course," Paul winked. "Imagine not having awesome me around? Everyone's lives would've been boring."

"Hey, can I ask you something? It's kinda out there, but…" Leah trailed off before taking a sip of her drink: herbal tea, this time. She was working on curbing her coffee addiction; it was sort of working. "What position are you within the pack? Like Jacob's Number Two?"

Paul swallowed. "It's complicated."

_Story of her life_, Leah thought. She took another sip of her tea and carefully informed the captain that, "I read up one some books about wolf packs dynamics, courtesy of Eric. Some packs have defined positions. Alpha, Beta…"

"Depends on the pack. Some take positions seriously; some don't." Paul shrugged. "Jacob— I don't know he enjoys being alpha as much as some of the others I've encountered." "No, it's not that... he's not power-hungry, you know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean. He told me that the position just fell on his lap."

Paul snorted. "You don't _just_ become an alpha. You have to have a reason to be a leader, to have a pack of wolves just… follow you. I don't know how to explain it. I don't think he does either."

"Ah," Leah nodded. It was nice to see that Paul was in the same boat as her. It seemed like the entire pack was winging it- so, far, it hadn't bitten them in the ass. "So, what am I, then?"

Paul gave her an odd look. "A part of the pack."

"Despite never phasing?" Leah joked, though there was some bitterness in her voice.

"If we want to be honest, you became a part of the pack way before you got bitten," "You and... I guess, Jacob, only didn't know it at the time."

* * *

"So, when were you gonna tell me your birthday's on Monday?"

Leah sharply looked up from her menu, confused—it wasn't a question she expected. Birthday's, that was just something they hadn't talked about. Ever. The only reason why she knew about Jacob's birthday because Rebecca had invited her to a small party some months back. "It's not important," she carefully said, eyeing her partner suspiciously. "I haven't celebrated it since I turned twenty-one."

Crossing his arms, Jacob matched his partner's gaze. "You didn't answer my question."

"I just did."

"I'm taking you out."

Leah set the menu aside and sighed. "No, you're not."

"Oh, I am," Jacob declared. "And Aisha's coming around because you rarely say no to her."

Leah snorted. "Jealous?"

"Not the least." Jacob sat up in his seat, displaying a shit-eating grin that would make Paul proud. "But I figured you would reject my offer, so I had to bring out the big guns. Efforts seem to be paying off."

"I want a new partner."

"If I couldn't get a new partner after you _betrayed_ me during that UNO game," Jacob argued. "Then, what makes you think you can change partners because of a birthday gift?"

Leah scoffed. "Are you still mad about that? Wasn't my divorce party a while ago?"

"Only a month and a half ago, and it still hurts," Jacob said, dramatic, clutching his chest, sniffling. "I have feelings, too."

Leah tossed a sugar packet at him. "Oh, shut up."

Jacob laughed.

Their conversation was soon interrupted by their waiter, currently standing at the end of the table with his pen and notepad ready. "Good afternoon, what can I get you guys to eat?"

Leah chose a roast beef sandwich while Jacob ordered a burger—one of these days, she was going to have to remind the man that yes, he might be a shapeshifter, but he was still getting older. Hamburgers for lunch were not healthy.

"How did you find out anyway?" She asked when the waiter walked away. "You're not in HR."

"No, but Jared's girlfriend's sister is," Jacob said. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye that reminded Leah of Seth when he was trying to antagonize her. "Very nice lady. You should meet."

"I only interact with HR when I have no other choice."

Jacob chuckled, and then, "So, you're coming?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really," Jacob admitted with a shrug. "But you'll love it. I promise. I had to use every favor in the book to pull it off… you're gonna love it."

Leah gave Jacob a deadpanned look. "Are you trying to guilt-trip me?"

"Is it working?"

Leah huffed. "Give me the time and place."

"Next Wednesday night at eight pm. I know we have to work a little later that day, but we can head over to the place when our shift ends."

She sighed, defeated. "And the place?"

Jacob let out a dramatic sigh. "It's a surprise, Leah."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "_Jacob_."

Completely unintimidated by the glare that could break even the hardest criminals, Jacob let out an evil chuckle. "Glare all you want, Clearwater. I ain't telling you shit."

Leah wished she could smack that smug look off her partner's face, but at the same time, she couldn't deny that she wasn't excited. "Thank you for your consideration."

Jacob grinned, triumphant. "You're welcome."

* * *

"Tell me more about Jacob."

Leah swallowed. "He's my partner."

Dr. Murad waited for Leah to explain further.

"He's great," Leah eventually continued. It wasn't a lie. It could be the entire truth. Jacob was great— a great partner, a great friend. But from the way her therapist's eyes bore into her, Leah knew that the answer wasn't enough. "A breath of fresh air," she added.

"In what way?"

Leah didn't know how to answer the question. Or maybe she did, but couldn't bring herself to do so. Jacob— her thing with Jacob was complicated. She wasn't dumb; she knew there was something _there_. Jacob knew it as well, never attempted to mention it, _ever_. The pack did as well, but they decided, in their better judgment, to tread those waters lightly.

"It's hard to explain," Leah admitted. "And—" She paused. "It's hard to explain."

Dr. Murad let out a sigh and adjusted her glasses. "Leah, we're the only ones in this room. Nothing you say in here will go beyond these walls."

Fuck, Dr. Murad was reading her like an open book. The revelation forced Leah to retreat to a well-acquainted position, defense. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"He makes me feel alive," Leah blurted out. Absolutely without thinking or considering the consequences behinds those words- she froze, staring at her therapist in horror. Where did those words come from? She didn't know. "It…" She shook her head, then stressed, "That's not what I meant."

Dr. Murad raised an eyebrow. "What did you mean, then?"

"He's—" Leah stopped and let out a frustrated sigh. "Great. A breath of fresh air, as I said. That's it—Yeah."

Dr. Murad nodded, satisfied, pleased as if Leah had provided her the answer she was seeking all along.

"It's not what you think," Leah insisted vehemently. It took her a minute to realize what she had just admitted. Well, not admitted. Not explained in the right way, with the right meaning. Jacob had saved her life—that was all she meant. She would forever be grateful for his decision to give her the bite.

"You can be honest with me, Leah," Dr. Murad told her client after some time. "Like I said: nothing you say in here will go beyond these walls."

Leah wasn't concerned about that. She was worried about her inability to keep her feelings in check. She didn't want to be a stereotype, _god damnit_. A male and female partnership turned... whatever. No, fuck that. She was fine right where she was.

"You don't have to do anything," Dr. Murad reminded Leah. "I only wanted you to be honest with yourself. You've mentioned him numerous times—your demeanor changes when he's brought up. You seem to... relax, become lighter."

Leah crossed her arms, averting her gaze. "Then why did you ask me a question you already knew the answer to?"

Dr. Murad placed her notepad aside. "Because I think you needed to hear the answer for yourself."

* * *

Leah did not want to attend tonight's run.

Despite her body thrumming at the presence of the April full moon, all her mind wanted to do was shut down until the following morning, when she would have no choice but roll out of her bed. She had considered, several times, calling Jacob and telling him not to bother picking her up. But during nights like these, her body overrode any rationality—She had to be outside. She had to stand under the moon and feel the effects of the moon's ray entering her body, no matter how minuscule the effect.

So, she ended up swallowing her fatigue and hopped in Jacob's car.

In truth, she didn't _have_ to go every time. Jacob had insisted that the runs served more as pack-bounding exercise, but Leah didn't want to feel left out. Especially on days like tonight, where the moon, currently obscured by clouds, hung high in the night sky.

"You're still going on the hunt?" Leah asked, yawning as Jacob sped down the highway.

Jacob glanced at his right, where the moon followed. "It's the full moon," he said, turning his attention back to the road. "_We're_ going on a hunt."

Leah didn't bother arguing with the man—Jacob, and his inclusive ways. Well, it looked like she was going, yet again, watch from afar as the rest of the pack stalk down a stag. "Jacob…"

"Leah."

The conversation stalled until Jacob pulled into the forest preserve's parking lot. As expected, no one but the pack was in a multiple-mile radius. No humans, but there were animals, Leah observed as her nostrils flared at the scent of _food_.

"Hungry?"

"I'm not having another piece of deer meat," Leah told Jacob, breathing deeply. Despite feeling full an hour earlier, Leah could inhale an entire cow right now. And an entire herd right now. "You better hunt accordingly."

Jacob released a light chuckle. "Can't promise you anything. He shut down the engine and tapped the steering wheel. "C'mon, Clearwater. The rest is here."

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Leah nodded. Once outside, she extended her arms for a good stretch—she cringed at the sudden sharp pain in the muscles of her shoulders, her neck… everywhere. Dismissing the soreness as a symptom of an unknown injury, she followed Jacob's lead to the rest of the pack. Most of the guys had already transformed, only leaving Paul behind to serve as a lookout. He would eventually phase when Leah and Jacob were within sight.

As the wolves got themselves together, circling each other, barking and growling, Leah paced around the area, wincing on every step, catching her breath, feeling her mouth dry up. She was tired, she told herself, running a hand down the side of the neck, grimacing at its clamminess. It was a chilly night; there should be no reason why she was sweating—_Probably coming down with something,_ she decided, contemplating if she should just return to the car. The pack would understand.

The pack noticed, but Leah waved off their concern. With a weak smile, she pointed at Jacob's truck behind her, she announced, "I'm gonna head back—" She froze, jaw tightening, eyes dilating at the sight above her: the moon, no longer shielded by the night clouds, shone bright, lightening up the ground under her and the forest around her.

The wolves pointed their nose upward and loudly howled, but Leah didn't move. She could feel blood running from her nose, the achiness in his body increasing, but she couldn't move. She clearly heard Jacob barking at her, almost whining, but she all she could do was collapse onto the ground, knees first and crush her ears with the palm of her hands, but the sudden loud ringing wouldn't _stop_. The pain wouldn't stop.

Clutching the dirt below her, Leah let out an earsplitting scream, and—

* * *

Leah woke up with a start.

Her face twisted in confusion and slight apprehension as she examined her surroundings—she wasn't home. She couldn't pick up the familiar scents of her mother and brother. She glanced down and held her breath—she wasn't in her clothes; the t-shirt and basketball shorts she was donned in were too big and… carried Jacob's scent. Goodness, his scent was overwhelming.

She exhaled, and as her anxiety dissipated, flopped her body against the mound of pillows, Jacob's pillows. She was in his bed. Inside his apartment while Jacob remained somewhere in the kitchen, working with dishes.

She breathed again as her eyes roamed around the room, contemplating how she ended up here.

It must have been dropped off at night or during the early morning—Leah remembered driving with Jacob to Sag Valley Forest Preserve and complaining about her fatigue… so, perhaps closer to midnight. She remembered getting out of her car, and the sudden pain felt all over her body and the wolves and… that was about it.

She glanced to her left, where the sun rays shined through the blinds. It was probably late morning, early afternoon, she concluded.

"Oh, you're alive."

Leah practically shot up from the bed and found Jacob, dressed in his work-attire, standing under the threshold to his bedroom with a small smile and a drink in his hand. "Green tea," he said, lifting the mug. "No sugar, just as you like it."

With Leah's curious eyes on him, Jacob pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed before handing over the drink. "I thought about dropping you off at your mom's," he said, adding a light chuckle, trying to ease his guest's nerves. "But the thought of explaining to your mom and Seth to why I was dropping off an unconscious you 2:30 in the morning… that wasn't gonna happen."

"Thanks." Leah brought the hot mug to her lips and took a long sip, savoring the favor and warmness. "What happened?" she asked, still unable to unclog her memory. It was frustrating, annoying, and due to her cold turkey-vow, she couldn't even blame the amnesia on wolfbane-infused alcohol. She was going cold turkey, along with Jacob, and she was taking it seriously this time.

"You phased."

Leah almost dropped her tea. Taking a deep breath, she set the mug aside on the small table next to her before bringing a hand to her mouth. Her eyes widened, conveying shock, fear, amazement, pleasant surprise, and... proud. And then, doubt. "You're fucking with me," she accused, though deep inside, she knew Jacob wouldn't pull such a cruel joke on her.

Jacob shook his head. "Last night, your wolf came out."

Leah sharply inhaled.

Holy—

_Fuck_.

She did it.

She slowly breathed, trying to digest the new information, trying to recall new memories without any avail. She stared down at the cup in her hands, deeply frowning. "The last thing I remember was the sight of the moon and my body…" She sighed. "I don't know how to explain it." Leah locked eyes with Jacob. "That's it. And the next thing I know, I'm waking up in your bed."

Jacob nodded. "Yeah."

"Holy shit," Leah breathed, experiencing numerous emotions, but one would stand out: happiness. She was thrilled. _Finally_. No more questions about her possibly being dud. She carefully placed her tea aside and drew Jacob in for a hug. "I _did_ it."

"See, I told you that it'd happen," Jacob said, tightening his hold. "Have more faith in me, yeah? I do know what I'm talking about, sometimes."

"Yeah, only sometimes," Leah laughed, releasing the man, then, "So, what happened to my clothes?"

Letting out a nervous laugh, Jacob sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "They didn't survive the phase."

Leah blinked. "Oh." Her gaze dropped, slightly embarrassed. Accidental nudity was an aspect of being in a pack, but _still_. "That must have been awkward when—"

Jacob put up a hand and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Happens to everyone. Next time, just make sure to bring an extra set," and then, "Hungry?"

On cue, Leah's stomach rumbled. "Starving."

"Yeah, I thought you would be. C'mon." Jacob took Leah's hand and helped her out of bed. "I have some meat in the fridge."

"Deer meat?"

Jacob laughed. "Nah, beef. One hundred percent from cows."

"It better be."

* * *

"How long was I out for?" Leah asked between bites. The meat was practically raw, completely unseasoned, but _damn_. It tasted _so_ good. It gave her life, gave her joy. It had taken a lot of self-control not to down the entire thing in one gulp. "I feel like I've slept for days."

"Twelve hours, give or take," Jacob said, pouring a cup of cranberry juice for himself and his partner. "You blacked out the moment you shifted back to human form."

Leah ran a hand down her face. "Jesus."

"It's fine," Jacob insisted, waving a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about a thing. Don't worry about work. Paul was there last night. He knows why you're out today. He won't give you any shit."

"Twelve hours," Leah breathed, staring down at her plate of food. This was, she didn't know, the _fourth_ time she had blacked out due to something relating to her wolf. "When I'm going to stop doing shit like this?"

Jacob leaned over across the small dining table and squeezed his partner's shoulder. "Leah, you just turned into a wolf for the first time." He smiled softly, amused, assuring. "What did you expect?"

"I don't know..." Leah let out a deep sigh and finally looked up. "Are you going to tell me, and you and guys reacted the same way?"

"Yes," Jacob said before checking his phone. Raising from his seat, he announced that he, "Gotta head back to work. Technically I'm on my lunch break." He quickly downed the rest of his orange juice, pulled out a key from his pocket, and handed it to Leah. "Just in case you want some fresh air. But really, Leah, I know this may be a hard concept for you to understand, but please _try_ to rest."

Leah rolled her eyes and took the key. "I'm not a child."

"Nah, you're just stubborn." Jacob pointed at Leah's meal. "Finish eating and _rest_."

"Fine." Leah waved Jacob off. But right before he could leave through the front door, she called out, "Hey, I got a question for you." She waited for Jacob to turn around. "Why were you so hung up about the bite? I mean, don't get me wrong, there's still a lot to adjust, including my tendency to blackout, but honestly, I'm good."

Jacob swallowed. "I never asked you about it."

That was true, Leah realized. But she supposed, in the back of her mind, deep within her subconscious, she had made a decision. Thought it had been a given. They would always look out for her each. _Ride and die_, Jacob had told her some time ago. "You didn't have to."

Jacob's gaze dropped to the floor. "For some people, the thought of losing their humanity, changing who they are—"

There must have been horror stories, Leah decided. Not necessarily involving Jacob, maybe from other alphas. She cleared her throat. "Changing?" She shook her head. "As you said, I'm still me. Yeah, I got a wolf somewhere inside of me, but my name is still Clearwater. I'm still _me_."

Leah smiled at Jacob, hoping he would understand that he no longer had to feel still guilty, that he never had to feel guilty. Eventually, Jacob's eyes met Leah's; the doubt was still there, but at least, he was looking at _her_—Leah's smile grew. "Hey, how did I look?"

"Fucking amazing."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven Part One**

* * *

"Remember, it's important to be safe. Just because you're all enhanced now, doesn't mean you're immune to surprised, including, but not limited to pregnancy."

Leah snorted as she arranged the last of her clothing within the suitcase. She already had heard the "speech" hours before from her mother. "Thank you, mom."

It was the night before the trip to Vegas, and despite all of her efforts, Leah once again waited to the last minute to back. Aisha, completely aware of her friend's procrastination, had volunteered to ensure Leah didn't pull her hair out, trying to figure out what pants to bring.

Despite Aisha's taunts, Leah was grateful for her presence.

Aisha turned her friends towards her. "I'm here for you, girl," she said, placing a hand on Leah's shoulder, squeezing it. "But seriously, have fun and make sure you and your partner don't become an inspiration for another Hangover movie."

"It's not gonna be like that," Leah insisted, zipping up her suitcase. "We're only spending a couple of days there, and then, the rest at the Grand Canyon. We should be back in Chicago next Saturday night."

"A lot of things can happen in two days," Aisha chimed, handing her friend the rest of her travel-sized amenities. She laughed at Leah's stink eye and asked, "So, what hotel are you staying at again? Just in case we have to send in some reinforcements if shit goes down."

Leah fondly shook her head—Aisha wasn't the only person demanding her trip details. "I got a timeshare off the Strip and near the Canyon. I thought about staying at one of the big-names, but then Jacob and I remembered our salary."

"That's cool. More money for other vices." Aisha rubbed her hands together with a mischievous smile and wink. "And don't forget about the souvenirs. You know how your mom is… I love her, but she has a weird obsession with fridge magnets."

Leah chuckled. "Yeah, tell me about it."

* * *

"They weren't kidding about gambling being everywhere," Leah remarked, catching the sight of the row of slots machines as she and Jacob maneuvered through the crowds and towards baggage claim.

"Welcome to Vegas," Jacob said, holding out his arms. "You can get lucky anywhere in this city—Hey, Look!" He pointed at _Welcome to Las Vegas_ sign, hanging above the airport crowds. "Wanna take a pic?"

Leah looked up at the sign and grinned. She was never one for pictures, but damn it; she would be this week. She was on vacation; she was allowed to be a tourist. She could take _hundreds_ of pictures. "Sure."

Despite the usual work-related drama, the past couple of weeks had been the most joyful in a very long time. First, Leah had finally phased (amnesia notwithstanding). Then, despite her protests, Jacob and Aisha, as a birthday gift, had taken her to live showing of the _Real Housewives_ reunion. She had been there, right in the audience, right the _second_ row.

And after months of deliberation, she was finally in Las Vegas. For the next five days, she didn't have to think about work. She had no access to the station, her work computer, or her work phone (currently sitting on her bedside table, hundreds of miles away, completely unattainable until the following Saturday night).

Paul had promised Leah and Jacob that they wouldn't contact them about work unless the police department was literally burning to the ground—As she followed Jacob out of the airport with their luggage, Leah made a note to give the captain extra praise on his next supervisor evaluation.

* * *

"Congratulations, not only are you awarded with early check-in, but you have also been selected to a room upgrade," the hotel receptionist announced to Leah and Jacob later that morning. He handed them two booklets. "You can choose anything on the first page."

Leah grinned.

"We should get a suite," Jacob suggested as he skimmed the pamphlet.

"For privacy?"

Jacob smirked. "There's always a door separating the bedroom from the rest of the place. The sofa's usually a sofa bed… that way, if we have to, _you know_, we don't have to worry about getting another room."

Leah gave Jacob a sly look. "Oh, you're really serious about getting lucky, huh?" She laughed at Jacob's flustered expression. "Just as long as it's not the same time. We don't need _that_."

Jacob let out a short laugh. "So, one-bedroom suite?"

Leah nodded vehemently, "One-bedroom suite, it is."

"We hit the clubs tomorrow?"

"Or we can hit _it_ tonight," Leah suggested, tilting her head. "Then, we're able to stay out all night without worrying about traveling the next day." A small smile played on her lips. "The Canyon's not that far, but still…"

Jacob matched Leah's smile. "Good call."

* * *

_Breaking News: Yo, Aunt Maria found out about Sam and Emily! All Hell's breaking loose! Prepare for the texts and calls! If fam's on the news, you know why! And say hi to Jacob for me :D_

This was _not_ what Leah wanted to see at 3:00 pm while in the middle of MGM Grand's casino floor.

Leah had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of course, during the rate time she was away from Chicago for personal leisure, shit had to hit the fan in her personal life. Damn it, no matter what the law now said, she still had to deal with her ex and his girlfriend's (and her) drama.

"Seth says hi," she mumbled to Jacob before downing most of her bottled lemonade, wishing it contained wolfbane. "So, my entire family knows about Emily and Sam."

Jacob's eyes widened. "How bad is it?"

Leah rechecked her phone. This time, she received a message from a cousin in London, expressing his and his wife's absolute shock (and wondering if it had been a prank—Leah told him that it wasn't). Goodness, now the news was traveling globally.

Then, one text came in from Aunt Maria: _Leah, it's your aunt. How are you? Call me when you have a chance? _Quickly followed by one from Sue: _I had reminded everyone not to talk to you about anything until AFTER your vacation. Who knows if they'll listen—you know your family is... Don't worry about a thing, dear. Have fun!_

There was a rapid-fire of texts from additional relatives and family friends, leading Leah to believe that Maria had only recently discovered her daughter's secret. She ignored the texts saved for the last one, from Aisha:_ Is there a reason why someone from District 9 had to ask me why Sam's looking like he's about to cry?_

Leah slapped a hand on her forehead. She thought she and Sam had explicitly agreed that any reactions to their faltering marriage and subsequent divorce would stay _out_ of the office. The one time he wanted to express himself, he did _this_.

_My aunt found out about him and Emily_, Leah replied.

_Oh_.

Yeah, "oh" was right.

Leah showed Jacob the text messages.

"It was bound to happen," he said, shaking his head. "It's not easy hiding your relationship with your cousin's ex-husband, especially with a baby crawling around."

Leah knew that, but, "It'd be nice to have one day without drama," she groaned, pocketing her phone. "Is that too hard to ask?"

"Ignore them 'til you get back," Jacob suggested. "Oh c'mon, you're not allowed to wallow in Sin City. I won't allow it. Plus, it's not like you did anything wrong."

"I'm not wallowing," Leah argued, sitting at the nearest slot machine. She needed to gamble, even on a twenty-five-cent machine. Maybe, for once, she'd get lucky. "I'm annoyed."

"Yeah, well, stop." Jacob inserted another coin and pulled the lever. "Let's just hope no one ends up arrested."

Leah followed suit. "Yeah, let's hope."

She would only be off by one batch of cherries.

Just her luck.

* * *

The famed Vegas Strip was far different at night than during the day, Leah realized with excitement as she walked with Jacob, arms linked, down Las Vegas Boulevard. There far fewer family, much more lights and the general attire was noticeably different: flashier and more revealing. She could hear the rooftop pool parties going on at full force. The casinos and clubs were jammed packed, drinks were flowing inside. Everyone was more or less having a great time.

This the Vegas Leah wanted.

"You see that club down the street?" Jacob whispered in Leah's air. He pointed down Flamingo Avenue. "FVO. For Vampires Only. It's super exclusive, run by a couple of filthy rich vamps with connections to LVPAD. Not even eager human with the sweetest blood, craving to get fed on can get in."

"Is there one of us?" Leah wondered.

"Sort of. There are more exclusives out west in LA. But the ones here are generally for a mixed-crowd," Jacob explained. "A few clubs sell drinks with WB, but there's an unofficial don't ask, don't tell policy."

Leah nodded. "I never knew how much…"

"Integrated we are?" Jacob provided. "To be honest, vampires are the ones who got the shortest end of the stick. Their diet is limited. God forbid, a human with some good blood walks past one. No heartbeat. The skins always cold…"

"They're detectable if someone pays attention?"

"Yeah, but that's with everyone." Jacob shrugged. "Vampires should be fine, though. No one really checks out of them. Most people don't even know they exist. Or at least, _want_ to."

Eventually, the duo ended up at a "mixed" club, right off the Strip. It was reputable enough; Jacob had been there a few years back with Paul, said _The Magenta_ was the best "mixed-species" night club in the area.

The club was nearly filled to capacity and _loud_. There was a DH in the middle of the floor, playing a mix of hip hop and dance music. What caught Leah's eye was the crowd's diversity, not only in race but in species: humans, shapeshifts, trolls, fairies—there were even some vampires hanging out in the back. No one was making a fuss out of it—it was amazing.

"Long Island Iced Tea," she told the bartender when she reached the packed bar. "With some WB."

"Make it two," Jacob added, joining Leah's side. "A little light on the WB. We're not trying to get plastered."

Leah snorted. "Says you."

"Yeah, says me—_Holy shit_, how about one of those?"

Looking beyond her friend, Leah's eyes widened at the sight—two guys were being served drinks that were literally on fire. "I want one," she said almost immediately.

Jacob laughed. "You want one."

"Yes," Leah said, pulling on Jacob's shirt. She had no idea what the drinks would taste like, but they looked cool, and she was in a mood to be bold tonight. "Get me one."

"Now, I gotta _buy_ your drinks."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Oh shush," and then at the bartender, "What are those called?"

"Flaming Lamborghini's," the bartender replied, handing the duo their Iced Tea's. "Sambuca, Blue Curacao, Irish Cream, and Coffee liqueur. Unfortunately, they don't work well with WB."

Smirking, Leah rubbed her hands together. "Even better."

"Those of those, then," Jacob ordered, slapping some on bills on the bar. He turned to Leah and tapped her on the shoulder. "Your date's supposed to be buying you drinks, not me."

Leah waved the man off and took a sip of the Iced Tea. "I appreciate your generosity," she said. Her expression turned mischievous. "Okay, how are we gonna do this? Not trying to have a repeat of last time."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

Leah rolled her eyes, looking at Jacob, exasperated. "Get laid."

"Oh, right!"

Shaking her head, Leah scanned the area around her. There were some handsome men in the place, including one sitting about five stools down. Leah considered it, but then caught sight of his left hand, _married_. She wished non-committal married men would realize that the lightened band on their ring finger told no lies—She told Jacob such, earning a hearty laugh.

"Alright." Jacob slapped the table, expression determined. "What do you want in a guy?"

"No commitment."

The thought of being in a relationship wasn't appealing to Leah. She was going to take Aisha's advice (for once) and give herself a break. She was pretty sure she had used up all of his emotional energy during the past year.

"Obviously."

"Obviously?" Leah snorted. "Then, why did you ask?"

"Gotta know which person to set you up with," Jacob explained. "Apparently, my skills didn't do much last time."

"I wouldn't say that," Leah contested, though without much confidence. She took another sip of her drink. "Look, I don't care about the trivial shit. Just no assholes."

Jacob let out a dramatic gasp. "Now, would I do that to you?" he asked, bringing a hand to his chest. "That's it? You're not giving me much to work with, Clearwater."

"I'm giving you a lot," Leah argued, and then, "Okay, fine. Get me someone attractive—you know what that means?"

"Oh _please_, I know why Paul has an unofficial fan club at work," Jacob said. "I ain't blind."

"Good—How about you?"

"I'm in the same boat," Jacob said with a shrug. "The good news is that this is mixed-club. No one should be freaking out about anything."

Which honestly was a relief.

Leah leaned in and whispered into her partner's ear, "What if I phase in the middle of… _you_ _know_?"

"For the _last time_, Leah, you're not gonna phase. But if you do, maybe you'll luck and be with someone who's into that shit."

"I really don't like you," Leah said, swatting Jacob's hand, but unable to hide her easy grin. She scanned her surroundings again: some ladies had their attention on them, and Leah was pretty sure it wasn't because of _her_. Or maybe, they were—she didn't know. Oh, they were definitely checking Jacob out. Leah chuckled. "Hey, this should be easy for you. All you gotta do is take off your shift, and you'll have all the ladies rushing to you. You don't even need me."

Jacob glanced beyond Leah and smirked.

"It's not fair," Leah remarked into her half-empty glass. "I'm the one who's gotta put in more work _without_ shredding clothes."

The comment was more of a joke than anything, but Jacob, for some inexplicable reason, took it seriously. He took her hand into his and squeezed it. "You're not ugly, Leah," he softly told her. "Far from it."

Leah swallowed before downing some of her drink. She might need another one. "Well, thank you."

Jacob snatched his hand back. "Don't mention…" He trailed off as the flaming drinks were placed in front of him and Leah. "It."

Leah's widened at the magnificence, quickly took a photo and texted it to Aisha. In seconds, she received a reply, everything she had expected: a string of celebration emojis.

Laughing, Leah pocketed her phone and glanced behind her. It was then when her eyes laid of a very physically appealing man walking past her. He stopped briefly to look back, eyes sparkling with mirth before carrying on. Oh, he was interested; everyone knew it, including Jacob, who wouldn't stop snickering. Unbothered, Leah raised an eyebrow and asked the man next to her, "Well?"

Jacob rubbed his chin for a bit, appearing as if he was deep in thought. He couldn't fool Leah, though, "As your wingman, I have to say, I'm not impressed," he decided. "He's a handsome dude, but there's something about him that screams _no_. Call it a detective's intuition."

Leah gave him a deadpanned look. The man looked fine to her. "I'm not trying to marry him."

"It's called standards, Detective."

Leah scoffed, glancing to her left and raised both eyebrows—Just what she needed to see. She nudged Jacob's side with an elbow. "I see someone checking you out real hard," she whispered, jerking her head in the direction of the other side of the bar, "The one in the blue sequin top. Oh, and her friend, too. They're both practically undressing you with their eyes and appear to be making some sort of agreement—Down for a little ménage-a-trois?"

"Leah, I'm a _guy_," Jacob reminded his friend with a devious smirk. "And they're hot—_Jackpot_."

Leah blinked. "What? Are you talking about them?" She patted Jacob's arm. "Good for you."

"No, Leah, I'm talking about the person I found for you," Jacob clarified. He flashed Leah a wicked smile. "Yeah, he's gonna work. Plus, he doesn't look like a douche."

"What?" Leah quickly looked in both directions. "Who?"

"Two o'clock."

"Jacob—" Leah stopped, raising a curious eyebrow. "_Oh_."

It looked like Jacob had taste, after all.

Jacob placed a hand on Leah's shoulder. "You got this."

Yeah, she did. Leah nodded, quickly downed the rest of her shot, and hopped off the stool. She smoothed down her outfit, tossed her hair back, and beelined straight to the man who was confident she would at least make-out with.

* * *

The guy ended up being a dud.

Dejected and annoyance, Leah decided to return to her room, despite Jacob possibly being present with his lady-friends, and wallow herself to sleep. But to her utmost surprise, when she walked into her room, there was only one person present, reclining on the sofa, eyes glued to the Lakers-Knicks game while inhaling a bucket of hot wings.

"Jacob?" She called out, shutting the door behind her. "You didn't get lucky."

Jacob sat up, putting his bucket aside and waved. "Hello to you, too, my other half…" he greeted with a chuckle, and then he stopped, drawing his eyebrows together. "What happened? I wasn't expecting you until…" he glanced at his phone. "Much later."

Leah shot Jacob a dirty, frustrated look, tossed her room key to the nearest table, and kicked off her shoes. "I believed I asked you a question _first_."

"Well, one girl was batshit, and the other still wasn't over her ex," Jacob explained with a shrug. He didn't seem too disappointed. "After crazy girl left, we spent about a good two hours discussing our romantic failures. She ended up crying on my shoulder for fifteen minutes straight at the Bellagio fountains, and before leaving, gave me her business card." He fished said card out of his pocket and held it up. "She's in advertising."

Leah shut her eyes, pinched her nose, and groaned.

"Same," Jacob remarked.

"What is wrong with us?" Leah wondered moments later as she flopped onto the couch, right next to Jacob. "Seriously, what are we doing wrong?"

"It's mental. All _mental_," Jacob replied, poking his temple. "What happened to you? The last time I saw you, you had your tongue down that guy's throat."

"Not a damn thing," Leah grumbled, crossing her arms. She politely declined a chicken wing. "Body wasn't cooperating."

"You know, I've heard sex dolls are the hottest, new thing…"

Leah gave Jacob a dirty look and snatched his precious bucket of wings away. "Fuck you."

"Unofficial anti-frat rule," Jacob sang, but before Leah could toss a wing at his head, he asked, serious this time. "So, what was the issue?"

"He didn't believe in reciprocity."

Jacob raised both eyebrows, confused until he wasn't. "_Ah_." He cleared his throat. "He's one of those… sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. You couldn't exactly tell," Leah muttered, placing a hand on her forehead. "I know there's some that don't mind, but I'm not one of them."

"Nothing wrong with that," Jacob said, and almost immediately, he clapped. "Okay, once I'm done with these bad boys…" He pointed at the bucket. "We're going back out."

Leah leaned against the couch with her arms splayed out. She was ready to be lazy for the rest of the night. "I'm not in the mood to flirt again. Too much work…"

"We're going back out," he told Leah, leaving no room for protests. He rose from the couch. "We're going to a pool party. Everyone told us how wonderful they are so, let's check it out. We're in Vegas, damn it. We're not gonna spend the rest of the night in our hotel room, _not_ getting busy. How sad would that be? And maybe, just maybe, we'll luck out this time?"

Leah didn't have much faith in the last portion of Jacob's monologue, but as she would find out later, sometimes, that man knew what he was talking about.


	12. Chapter 11 Part 2

**Chapter Eleven Part Two**

* * *

"Let's do something stupid," Leah suggested the following morning.

"Last night wasn't stupid?"

Leah couldn't fight her grin as she and Jacob beelined to the hotel restaurant—she was looking forward to the complimentary breakfast buffet. "It was needed," she argued, then with a smirk. "Your lady-friend was cute."

That pool party had been amazing, and best of all, relatively drama-free. She and Jacob had been honest with their temporary lovers: No awkward sleepovers. No awkward morning afters. No awkward goodbye's seven o'clock in the morning. Said lovers agreed (as well as the importance of keeping it safe), and that was that.

"Yours wasn't so bad either," Jacob remarked, leading his friend to the closest, empty table. "See, we have moves, after all."

Leah snorted as she sat down. "Yay, us."

Jacob ushered over a waiter for two cups of coffee. "So, about doing something stupid... I'm down," he said with a shrug. "After all, we're on vacation. We're allowed to make questionable decisions. Just as long as they're legal."

They thanked the waiter for the much-needed caffeinated drinks.

"Of course. I'm not trying to lose my pension," Leah said, pouring creme into her coffee. She handed the pitcher to Jacob. "I want to get married by Elvis."

Jacob stopped mid-pour and looked up, confused. "Wait—" He shook his head. "Elvis is _dead_."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Not him, _dumbass_. An impersonator."

"You're kidding."

"No, I want to get married, right here in Vegas, with Elvis as the officiant," Leah explained, determined, then snorted at her friend's incredulous expression. "Oh, don't give me that look."

"What look?" Jacob downed some of his coffee and gestured Leah to following him to the breakfast far. "Didn't you just get divorced?" he asked. "Don't you think you're moving a little too fast?"

"Not actually, _married_." Leah took a plate and started piling it with food. "All I want to do is go to a chapel and have him there. I've always wanted to experience it, but Sam wasn't up for it..." "Oh c'mon, this is my chance. Who knows when I can come back here?"

"Vegas ain't going anywhere," Jacob reminder Leah with a laugh. "You seriously want to get fake-married by an Elvis?"

Leah looked eyes with Jacob. "Absolutely, I do." She popped a berry into her mouth before pouring more fruit onto her plate. "You, me, a marriage chapel and an Elvis."

"No one can know about this."

Leah nodded in agreement. "Ugh, no. That's the last thing we need."

Because of the pack would never live it down. Aisha would probably faint, and then, tell Sue. Sue might, no, would take things to a level that just wasn't necessary—no, spilling the beans, even about a stupid prank, wouldn't be worth the hassle.

"Alright."

Leah grinned. Soon, she would be able to cross an item off her secret bucket list. "Alright?"

"Alright," Jacob confirmed. "But first, we gotta check out the hotel lobbies, like Caesar's Palace, it has a goddamn spiraling staircase, and then we have to go to the Venetian—Hey, when do you wanna pull this stunt, exactly?"

"The chapel opens at nine."

"Oh, you've been thinking about this…"

"Maybe," Leah sang, then, "Listen, we can get married now, then spend the rest of the day hitting the casinos and the hotels. Oh, and we need to get souvenirs, or else I won't hear the end of it from my mom…"

Jacob looked up from his plate of protein, taken aback. "Now?"

"Why not? The morning is the best time. See, if we did it tonight, then we have to rush, get dinner, and get enough sleep for the driver to the Grand Canyon. You down?"

"When have I ever turned you down?" Jacob chuckled, shaking his head. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"Good morning, we'd like to get married without really getting married," Jacob announced to the receptionist of one of the more famous off-Strip wedding chapels. Thanks to the early time, he and Leah were the only ones on the line and one of the people in the building. "Makes sense?"

The receptionist's attention shifted from Jacob to Leah and back. Her eyebrows drew together as she carefully asked, "You don't want this morning to…" She swallowed. "Count?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. Surely, this wasn't the time two people requested a mock-wedding. This was Vegas. Crazy plans were commonplace.

"Exactly," Jacob said, then glanced behind him where Leah stood. "Exactly?"

Leah's face brightened. "Exactly."

Jacob nodded. "Exactly—So, we can do this?"

The receptionist shrugged. "Sure, just don't sign the marriage certificate… or kiss."

"Not a problem. We don't have a marriage certificate," Jacob told the woman, then checked with Leah, "Still wanna go through this?"

Leah nodded, determined. "No turn-backs, Black."

"Figures…" Chuckling, Jacob turned around and slapped the table. "Okay, Melissa. Book us in."

Melissa wrote the friends in the schedule, and after explaining the process and collecting the fees, she asked, "What would you like to do for vows? Traditional or personal?"

Leah and Jacob shared a look, both having forgotten that aspect of the wedding process. "Can we skip the vows?" Leah ended up asking the receptionist. "We've both been married before. We know how it goes."

The receptionist let out a dry cough, still trying to digest the conversation. "The vows are the most important part."

"This ain't real," Jacob reminded her.

"Okay, if that's what you want…" The receptionist trailed off and handed the detectives their change. She rose from her seat and came from behind the desk. "Follow me this way, please."

* * *

The wedding didn't start right away.

"You have the ring?" Leah asked as she and Jacob waited out of the chapel while "Elvis" officiated another wedding. The chapel was everything she had dreamed of—she was tempted to snap a photo and text it to Aisha as a joke, but she didn't want her friend (or Sue) to jump conclusions.

Jacob nodded and presented it.

It wasn't what Leah had expected. Honestly, she didn't know what to expect, but this was beyond her imagination. Completely unimpressed, she looked up at her friend. "A Ring Pop?" she questioned. "You're giving me a _candy ring_?"

Jacob rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. "In my defense, you proposed to me fifteen minutes before we finished breakfast, and then we had to rush over here—didn't exactly have the time to get you something nicer."

Leah gave Jacob a deadpanned look. Admittedly, her ring wasn't that better in quality (after all, she did buy it from a vending machine, but at least it was made out of _metal_.

"I hope this isn't a testament to how you treat your dates," she then teased, hanging Jacob back the ring. "No wonder you're striking out each time."

Jacob brought a hand to his chest and slightly bowed. "I'll put in more effort if that pleases you—Oh, wait. Didn't I _strikeout _last night?"

Brushing off Jacob's comment, Leah directed him to stand back up. "I want dinner after this," she demanded. "A nice one."

"I know a place."

"It better be good," Leah warned, narrowing her eyes for an added effect. "And I want to eat this ring when we're done."

"I thought you've sworn off sugar?"

"I'm on vacation, Jacob. I don't diet while on vacation," She argued, then, rubbing her hands in growing anticipation and excitement, she breathed, "I _cannot_ wait for this."

"I never thought you'd be so giddy over getting married by Elvis," Jacob remarked. His smile was fond. "Why didn't you do this the first time?"

"Have you met my mother? She and my ex-mother-in-law would have had a conniption. And Sam wasn't going to go against his mother's wishes. Despite what he wants to be complete, he's a total mama's boy."

"You spend thousands of dollars on a wedding you didn't want?"

"Yes, we did," Leah admitted. "I did consider renewing our vows on our fifth anniversary in a place like this. Nothing monumental, but…" She waved off her answer and shrugged. "Sam can be uptight. So, this is an alternative."

Jacob laughed. "Damn, you want Elvis that bad?"

"Shut the—" Leah was interrupted by Melissa, who announced that their wedding would begin in five minutes. Then with a definitive clap, she declared, "Let's get this show on the road."

Jacob stepped aside, allowing Leah to pass him. "After you, my dear."

* * *

Their "wedding dinner" took place inside of the _Top __of the World_ restaurant in the Stratosphere Hotel and Casino. The detectives were lucky enough to snag a table next to the windows, where they could see all of Vegas both new and old from more than eight hundred feet above the ground.

The restaurant was the fanciest Leah had been in years, not that she was complaining. She had never put much stock into high-end restaurants, even while Sam had been interested in romancing his wife. Food had been food, but now, as she stared down at her filet mignon while sitting in a dimly-lit restaurant that gently rotated three-hundred and sixty degrees—she was starting to see the appeal.

"What happens during the next full moon?" Leah asked, cutting a piece of her meal. She sighed, satisfied, at the taste of the well-seasoned meat, cooked just right. "Do I phase again?"

Jacob nodded. "Most likely. It kinda takes a while to shift without needing the moon. Intentionally or not."

"How does that work?"

"At first, it's often based on emotions. Anger. Fear— you know, the usual that results in all hell breaking loose. The first time I shifted without the moon was when I found out about my mom. As you can imagine, sadness played a big part."

"I'm sorry."

"Leah, you didn't get her sick," Jacob stressed, then, "It was like that for a while, and then, I started controlling myself. I honestly don't know how to do it—with Paul... now, that was an experience."

"You just know."

"Yeah." Jacob retrieved a piece of the complimentary bread, displayed in the middle of the table. "There's a point in your life when you have to accept that you're the wolf, and the wolf is you. It takes some time, even me who was born with the damn thing, had a hard time reconciling the fact that I'm literally two things. Once you truly understand and accept that concept, Leah, I can't begin to tell you how good it's gonna get."

"I can only imagine," Leah said. She liked Paul, but he could be a hot-head (he even admitted it himself). She took a sip of her wine. "So, I need to control my emotions…I can do that."

"Meditation and breathing exercises can do wonders. I even had to strongly advise Paul to take anger management."

"Is that why you're so chill?"

Jacob blinked and cocked his head. "Chill?"

"Yeah, I've seen you upset, but never _angry_," Leah explained, honestly impressed. Sometimes, her mouth got her in trouble. Her expressions led people to believe she hated them. She could snap in a blink of an eye, but Jacob? No. "You don't let your emotions dictate you, especially on the job."

Jacob stopped chewing his food and swallowed. "You don't know how wrong, you are," he said, locking eyes with Leah.

Leah drew her eyebrows together. "Really? You usually keep your shit together."

"You know, it took me all of my might not to bash Moran's face in," Jacob confessed.

That was an incident Leah didn't want to think about. It was done, over. Moran wasn't even in the unit anymore. "Jacob, he was just being an asshole."

"I know, and he deserved a fist to the face," Jacob said, leaving no room for an argument, and then softly, "He shouldn't have said those words to you, blaming you for Sam getting shot. What kind of bullshit is that?" He let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "I guess that's proof that your assessment of me is a bit flawed."

Leah remained tight-lipped.

The rest of the meal carried on with relative silence. The friends engaged in small talk, here and there, but both detectives were more focused on consuming their food.

The waiter came around sometime later. "How is the food?"

"Excellent," Leah said, grinning after swallowing her last bite. She considered ordering another dish, but then remembered her bank account. "Thank you."

"I'm glad." The waiter tucked the menus under his arm, picked up some of the used dishes, and placed it aside. "Are you both from out of town?"

"Chicago," Jacob replied. He smirked, and then quickly replaced it with a fond smile directed at Leah. He took her right hand into his and rubbed the top of it with a thumb. "We're here to celebrate a special occasion."

Leah glanced up from her plate, slowly cocking her head in confusion, but it didn't take her long to understand what was happening—he wouldn't do that, he would he?"

Then Jacob took Leah's hand and squeezed it, eyes sparkling. "We eloped," he announced.

Leah's eyes widened. She couldn't _believe_ him.

From under the table, Leah kicked Jacob's shin, but the action amounted to nothing but a light chuckle.

"Congratulations," the waiter said, holding the dessert menu to his chest. And before Leah knew it, he and Jacob entered a conversation about romance, weddings, and shit. Occasionally, the waiter would look Leah's way and asked her a question (he must have quickly picked up that she wasn't much of a talker). Leah would provide a general answer and a reserved smile.

She was going to kill Jacob, and she expressed such intentions with her eyes, which only made Jacob smile even more. Completely ignorant of the "bride's" glares, the waiter continuously expressed his congratulations, practically beaming.

_Oh my god, I'm living in a rom-com, minus the rom_, Leah realized in horror. She couldn't believe the waitress was hanging on to Jacob's every word.

"Dessert's on us," the waiter announced.

Jacob clapped. "_Great_!" And then, with the waiter finally out of earshot, Jacob leaned back in his seat, smirking. He was utterly proud of himself. "See?"

Leah huffed. "I can't believe you just committed fraud."

"Fraud? Ain't that a little harsh? Hey, I just got you a free piece of cake." Jacob's smirk grew. "You oughta be grateful."

"Go to Hell."

Jacob let Leah's jabs rolled off him, laughing, before finishing his wine. "On our wedding night?" he asked, raising a mocking eyebrow, which earned a couple of sugar packets thrown his way. He shook his head. "Such violence."

Leah had to admit it: the cake was _good_.

Not long after the friends finished their desserts, the waiter returned with the check. Before Leah could get her hands it, Jacob took it and refusing Leah's silent requests to let her see it. He checked the bill, seemingly not surprised by the amount, and took his credit card from his wallet.

"What's the damage?"

"Don't worry about it." Jacob slid the card into the black booklet. "It's on me."

"This isn't a date, Black," Leah reminded the man, stern. She didn't intend to sound ungrateful. She honestly appreciated the gesture, but the meals in this place weren't cheap. Jacob had the same salary as hers— it wouldn't be fair. "Let me pay for my portion."

"You know, most people would appreciate someone else paying for their dinner," Jacob pointed out. "And we gotta keep up with the newly-wed façade, remember?"

"That _you_ made up."

"You can make it to me tomorrow," Jacob offered. Before she could protest, the waiter came around and retrieved the check. Jacob noticed Leah's slightly annoyed expression. "Please don't tell me you're mad at me. Not over this."

Leah shook her head. "No, I just don't want you to spend all your money."

"This isn't gonna break me," Jacob assured. "Trust me."

"Tomorrow, the check is mine."

Jacob put up his hands in defeat. "Okay."

* * *

The Grand Canyon was different but just as amazing as Vegas. The atmosphere was far calmer with fewer people and more open space. The fresh air made breathing pleasurable. The sounds of nature, the animals, the occasional wind, the water below—it beat the sounds of the city with its police sirens, firetruck sirens, the movement of the trains rushing along the elevated tracks.

It was also _hot_. Leah and Jacob had just started on the relatively long road, but the view—goodness, it reminded her of the mountains of Washington in terms of beauty. Except with less vegetation, less water, and more reddish rocks.

"I love hiking," Leah expressed as she and Jacob walked side by side along the Bright Angel Trail, "Every time my family and I go to Washington, we would spend hours around the outskirts of the reservation. Forests, mountains, the rivers... I was never a fan of the state, but if I had to choose a reason to move there, it would be for just that," then added, "And my extended family, of course."

Jacob grinned, knowing. "Of course."

"You have family in Washington?"

"Cousins here and there. Most of the family is either in Chicago or St. Louis."

Leah nodded.

"I haven't been there in years."

"You should visit."

"Are you suggesting we go on another trip?"

Leah shrugged. "I'll see how this one ends."

"I think it's doing well."

"We have two more days to see if it stays that way."

"Ouch, that's harsh. Even for you."

Honestly, there wasn't much _to_ _see_. This was one of the most relaxing vacations had in years. She didn't have to make sure her husband was happy; her family was happy and getting along... she just went on her wait with Jacob tagging along. A man who went along with the flow, an infuriating trait especially regarding investigations, but now, Leah couldn't be more grateful.

But she could let Jacob stew in uncertainty for the next few days, she thought, smirking.

"You think we can have a late-night run out here?" Leah later asked. The Canyon wasn't Sag Valley. It didn't have an abundance of tall trees to hide them during the run. But this was a lot of land with cliffs and valleys. They could blend in the night, especially under the moonless sky.

"I don't know," Jacob said, scrunching up his face—he was candidly undecided. "It gets dicey at night, especially when it comes to established territories. We're not from around here; the others may freak out."

Leah paused for a moment. "The others?"

"Yeah, wolves," Jacob clarified, and then added with a light chuckle, "We don't only exist in Chicago."

"You can tell?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "You can't?"

During the past few months, Leah had been improved her identification skills. She could easily pick out a vampire and a shapeshifter, but not from afar. She shrugged. "I still don't know what's going on half the time."

"Someone marked his territory not far from here."

Leah grimaced. "Like... pee?"

Jacob laughed.

* * *

The Grand Canyon Skywalk wasn't what Leah had anticipated. She had imagined a bridge stemming from one end of a cliff to another. But this one wasn't a bridge; it was horseshoe-shaped with the curve extending out beyond the cliff. The glass flooring gave the impression that one was walking on air. Looking down was the canyon, over four thousand feet deep. It was not for the faint of heart or those suffering from vertigo.

But the view was incredible.

Leah couldn't keep her eyes off the floor as she walked further along. She was calm, amazed, but for some reason, she could feel her heartbeat sharply increasing. Was it from the exhilaration? No, she wouldn't even feel this way seconds before enduring the first drop on a rollercoaster. She glanced over her shoulder.

Oh, it wasn't her heart that was racing.

There Jacob was, arms wrapped around the structure's handrails, holding for dear life.

"Jacob," Leah called out. Goodness, she could _feel_ the apprehension rolling off of him. It was overwhelming. She slowly approached him. "What's wrong?"

Jacob looked down and gulped. "I don't trust the glass."

"C'mon, I'll make sure you don't fall." Leah held out her arm. "Here, take my hand."

Jacob snorted, embarrassed. "What am I, five?"

Leah sighed. "No, you're a grown man who fears glass flooring."

Despite her snide remarks, Leah did feel a little bad. If she had known about Jacob's apprehension, she would have never brought up the idea to go on the skywalk. They could've stuck to the trails.

"What if there's a crack?" Jacob shuddered. "What if—I know you've seen those disaster movies!"

Leah let out another sigh. She doubted the floor would collapse beneath them. The skywalk, according to the website, was supported with steel and capable of withstanding high winds— but she wasn't here to disparage Jacob's fears. Everyone feared something.

No one was paying Jacob any mind, a blessing. But then again, there weren't many people on the skywalk during this time of the morning. Leah was grateful for suggesting to arrive before the mass rush, usually in the early afternoon.

"Don't look down then."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of having a glass floor?"

"Yes, but you're freaking out—"

"I'm not freaking out."

"You're clutching the railing." Leah reminded him, placing a tender hand on his arm. "We don't have to do this."

Jacob stared at Leah's hand and then quickly shook his head. "I got shot multiple times," he said, determined. "I was in the middle of a goddamn raid with vampires, and the COM and bullets flying everywhere— I can handle this."

Leah didn't fight him on it. She dropped her arm and shrugged. "Let's go, then."

Jacob nodded, drew in a deep breath, and blew out his cheeks. He eventually released the railing. He slowly walked towards Leah, holding his hand out just in case he needed to grab something.

When Jacob reached her, Leah extended her arm, standing on her toes and massaged the back of her friend's neck. It was a soothing spot for him, she had realized months ago during those stressful, late work nights. "You alright?"

Jacob slowly exhaled, body relaxing.

It wasn't perfect; Jacob was still a little tense, but it was better. His heart rate was slowing down to normal. That was all Leah needed. "Well?" she asked, dropping her hand.

Jacob took into another deep breath and nodded. "Thanks."

Dropping her arm to her side, Leah softly smiled. "What are friends for?"

* * *

The pair returned to the trails the following day. This time, vowing to hike more miles, occasionally stopping to take in the breathtaking sights and for a late breakfast and lunch. During their third break, Leah sat on the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. Jacob followed suit, ankles crossed, leaning back on his arms.

A comfortable silence fell between them as they stared into the scenery—rocky multi-colored cliffs and the multicolored sky, littered with a few clouds above them. It was peaceful; people were around, but not close enough. Leah, even with her newly enhanced hearing, could barely pick up the other hiker's voices.

"You think we can get paid by the force to travel for the rest of the year?"

Jacob snorted. "Why ask a question you already know the answer to?"

Leah let out a small laugh. She closed her eyes, deeply breathed. "Thank you for coming with me," she eventually said, smiling.

Leah didn't have to look to her left to see that Jacob was smiling, too. "Who turns down a trip to Vegas and the Grand Canyon? Honestly, I should be the one thanking you."

"Heh, I don't mind. You're one of the lesser annoying people in my life."

"Sounds a little like a backhanded compliment, but I'll accept it for how." When Leah finally looked his way, Jacob said, sincere. "I'm glad you're having a good time."

"I am." Leah's attention returned to the landscape. "It's not Chicago, and my goodness, that's what I need. A break from everything."

Jacob nodded. "Have you considered going to an island?"

Leah could already picture it. "Bora Bora."

Jacob scoffed. "On _your_ salary?"

"Shut up." Leah nudged her partner with an elbow. "I know it's a pipedream. I know it's not going to happen."

"Nah, you can afford it. Just save."

Oh, she wished it was that easy.

"Not when I have to find a new apartment."

"How's that going anyway?"

Slumping her shoulders, Leah sighed. House hunting, she had discovered, could be just as infuriating as job hunting. Too many decisions and too little time (and money). "I think I'm going to stick with Rogers Park."

"Where your ex and his baby mama live?"

The situation wasn't ideal, but the neighborhood always had a special place in Leah's heart, even with the increasing crowds of college students. "There are other homes in that area," she reminded Jacob, nudging him with an elbow. She breathed in the warm air and exhaled. "I think the issue is that I'm not in a rush. Unless something sharply goes left, my mom's not kicking me out of the house. There's simply no pressure."

"You like it there?"

"I do."

"Then stay."

Leah snorted. "At my age?"

"It's not that big of a deal," Jacob argued with a shrug. "No one's gonna ostracize you for living with your family. Hey, maybe at this rate, you'll be able to afford Bora Bora."

Leah smiled at the thought. "One can only hope."

* * *

**Author's Note: I had so much fun writing the last two chapters. Sometimes, I need a break from coming up with ways to make the investigation as complicated as ever (insert evil laughs). As always, thank you so much for reading and your support!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

* * *

"Can we take another week off?" she asked, grimacing at the numerous reports she had to review. A collection of evidence— all photos— she had to sift through and multiple meeting requests, including one with Jenks regarding a court appearance. "How did we manage to collect so much crap while we were gone? We're not even supervisors."

"It's a good thing we both got dark roast, huh?" Jacob replied, lifting his cup of coffee. "Hey, it could've been worse. Embry and Aisha handled about a third of it. And now, we owe them both lunch."

Leah nodded, making a note to thank her friends, both of whom would be spending the rest of their day at the Cook County Courthouse, testifying about a "minor" homicide case featuring fairies that had been closed within a week. "Where do they want to go?"

"Giordano's."

"Again?"

"You know Embry's obsessed with pizza," Jacob said with a laugh. "Aisha said she'd be fine with that as well— she texted me before the bailiff ordered everyone to turn off their phones."

Leah took a sip of her coffee and started skimming through Aisha and Embry's notes. They had been busy alright, following up on Heidi's leads. Keeping in touch with Patrick, who had to be moved to a more secure location thanks to a few murder attempts (Heidi must have found out about Patrick snitching). Asking Gianna's parents more questions—their work was invaluable.

"I want to go to LA," Leah said moments later. The first day back on the job and already, she wanted to go on another trip. "I've never seen the Hollywood sign before."

Jacob looked up from his work, smirking. "Is this an invite?"

Leah rolled her eyes. "No, I'm just speaking my mind," she replied, sarcastic.

"Give me the time and price."

"It won't be anytime soon, though," Leah admitted. "Unfortunately, I have bills and an apartment to pay for."

* * *

"Got an update on that guy from Cali. The inspiring actor? Thomas James," Martinez informed Leah and Jacob that afternoon. "Well, first. He's not human. He's a vampire, currently not affiliated with a coven, but was interested in joining the Volturi."

Jacob crossed his arms. "Yeah, him and a crap ton of other leeches—"

"_Jacob_," Leah chastised.

"Fine, vampires."

"Is James involved in anything illegal?" Leah asked Martinez. "At least enough to question him."

"My contact talked to James' agent, who was also his lover," Martinez said. "According to him, James knew Mike enough to offer him and Lauren Mallory refuge right after Mike's place was bombed. But as you know, they didn't reach that far. And about the questioning, it's not looking good—He's been missing since November."

Jacob snorted. "Of course, he has."

Leah shared Jacob's sentiment. James' disappearance was inconvenient. "Any leads about that?"

Martinez shook his head. "None. The LAPD had initially treated his disappearance as simple, possible homicide; they even went after the agent, but the case soon went cold."

"Feds know about this?"

Martinez nodded. "But right now, it's not enough to open a case."

"He probably got knocked off by the Volturi or their buddies," Jacob offered.

"Yeah, probably."

"Thanks, Martinez, for everything."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll keep you posted."

* * *

Leah honestly didn't think she would see Riley Biers' name ever again after his untimely death, but here she was, reading a letter written by him and dropped off by an unknown subject earlier that morning.

She didn't have any doubts that the words were Riley's. It sounded like him. His signature, written in sloppy cursive, was distinctly his- her contact in the forensics department, as a favor, verified it in minutes. His scent, though faint, still lingered.

_I ain't gonna last long in this world. I accept that. But I guess, my life will end with a bang? Better than dying quietly. Without anyone knowing. Without being a part of something._

_Thank you for Bree. She didn't deserve to share the same fate I will get, one of these days._

Once finished, Leah shoved the letter into Jacob's hands and averted her gaze, blinking away her tears. She took a serious of short breaths and wiped the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.

When she found about Riley's fate, she had been admittedly saddened. But this was the first time she had digested the news. Riley was killed due to being her informant. Damn it, she hadn't even offered witness protection for the young man. Who knew that Victoria would find out about his betrayal. Who knew he would get killed because of it. And _Bree_?

She had been just a baby.

"I don't understand," Leah said between sniffles. This overwhelming feeling of guilt and sadness didn't make sense. "Shit happens to informants all the time. Why am I like this? Why do I feel like shit? He was one of the bad guys, for fuck's sake."

"Nah, he was just a lost soul, caught into Victoria's web," Jacob said softly, patting his partner's shoulder. He neatly folded the letter and put it in his pocket. "It sucks. And don't bash yourself for feeling like this. It means you have a soul."

Leah nodded.

"Victoria's already paying from her crimes. She's gonna be put away for life."

* * *

"Aunt Maria...?"

Leah blinked at the woman standing in front of her, feet from her mother's front door with her arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Her cousin, Emily, was a few feet behind her mother, cowering.

"Good evening, Leah."

Maria was supposed to be in Washington. Emily was supposed to be in Rogers Park. Where was Sam? Where was Abel? And why did Maria look like she was ready for a fight, and Emily looked like she had already been through one? Oh, they must have talked about the affair, Leah concluded, and now, they (Maria) wanted to speak to the third person involved, the victim.

Leah did not have the emotional or mental capacity to handle this right now. But Sue soon appeared behind her, just as surprised as her daughter to see her sister and her niece and welcomed them both in.

Leah didn't have it in her heart to turn the guests, or at least, Emily, away.

Maria stood between her daughter and her nieces; arms still crossed. "I want Emily to apologize for her transgressions."

Leah wanted to tell Maria that this wasn't needed, but she doubted that would accomplish anything. "Aunt Maria…"

Emily hung her head. "I did."

"She did," Leah confirmed.

Maria held up a finger. "No, I want to hear it." She faced her daughter. "I don't believe you anymore, Emily. First, you told me that Abel was fathered by some sperm in a damn sperm bank, and now, I'm finding out that you've been sleeping with Leah's now-ex-husband for the past three years? _Three years_!"

Leah saw where the conversation was going, and it wasn't good. She had to diffuse it. "Look, Aunt Maria, they made a mistake. It's over between Sam and I. I don't have to worry about him for the rest of my life, and I'm happy about it," she insisted. "It's done."

Maria placed her hands on her hips. "You're going to let her get away with this?"

Leah groaned. "And what do you suppose I do?" she asked, throwing her hands up. "I had already cut her out of my life."

Emily recoiled at the last statement and then froze when her mother approached her.

"How can you do this?"

Leah glanced behind her at the sound of the back door, near the kitchen, opening. Seth entered and then froze when he caught his sister's eyes. He knew something was wrong and actually listened to Leah when she silently told him scram quietly—Leah didn't need another person involved in the debacle, even if it was sweet, supportive Seth.

"Mom, she wasn't giving him what he needed—"

Leah crossed her arms and blinked, unsure if she had heard correctly. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Emily recoiled again, but then squared her shoulders. She was going to be defensive; goodness, Leah could see it in her eyes because damn it, she would have done the same thing. "Look, he wanted someone there, but with you always working—"

Leah stepped to her cousin, offended. Taken aback. Ready to unleash Hell. That woman should be begging on her knees for forgiveness, not blaming the cousin she betrayed for everything. Her fists were balled up into fists. "I can't believe you!"

"Leah—"

"You, ungrateful brat." Maria pointed the finger at her daughter, eyes ablaze with anger. "After everything's she's done for you!"

Sue stepped to her sister. "Maria—" She looked at her daughter. "Leah, darling—"

Emily's resolved quickly drained. "Mom, you don't understand—"

Maria slapped Emily across the face. _Hard_.

Everyone froze.

Emily's reaction was delayed. She just stared at her mother, stunned beyond recognition, and then busted into tears. Maria watched her daughter, showing no signs of regret. Sue stood back, hesitant to get involved.

Leah honestly didn't know what to do.

The right thing to do was arrest Maria for assault, but Leah was off-duty, and deep inside, she couldn't help but think that Emily deserved the humiliation. It was karma, as bad as it sounded. Payback for the humiliation she and Sam had bestowed upon her. Despite the rest of the family finding out about the affair a little more than a week ago, it hadn't been much of a secret at the police department. People gossiped, especially the men (contrary to popular belief that women were the only ones who talked)— there was so much Leah had to endure from the passive-aggressive taunts to her former partner being an asshole.

Emily had deserved that slap and so much more.

She collapsed onto the ground, clutching her cheek. It wasn't a punch to the face, but Leah knew the other women hadn't expected such a move from her mother.

Goodness, she looked pathetic, crawled up in a fetal position. Maria huffed. She clearly didn't regret what she had done, but the look in her eyes did tell Leah that Maria wished there hadn't been an audience. "I think I should... go," Maria calmly said, gathering her things. "I'm sorry, Leah, for everything." She glanced at her crying daughter, disgusted. "I didn't expect to raise a _whore_." She turned to Sue. "We'll talk later, yes?"

Sue nodded and slowly led her sister out of the house.

She was still in a little shock.

Leah ran a hand down her face. This was a mess, completely unnecessary. They could've hashed this out over the phone. There was no reason why Emily had to be brought here, in a hostile environment, for yet another damn apology. But then again, Leah supposed she couldn't be surprised. She loved her aunt, but Maria was known for her dramatics. Things didn't settle with her quietly, a blessing and a curse, Leah realized as she got older.

"C'mon get up," Leah implored softly, grabbing onto her trembling cousin's arm. Emily was crying profusely, ugly tears. Leah felt for her, only a little bit—But what she didn't need now was the hysterics, the crying… she had a long day at work. It was closer to nine in the evening; she wanted to take a nice shower and go to bed.

"Leah—"

Leah ignored Emily. "Seth," she called out, knowing the man was hiding out in the kitchen. "Get me some ice!"

Seth did what he was told before insisting he had "something to do". It wasn't anything, Leah knew, but she didn't blame him for not being here. After thanking her brother, Leah directed Emily to a chair leaning against the kitchen table. Silently, Leah held the ice to her cousin's face. The spot where Maria's hand made contact with Emily's skin was still flaming red. Maria had put all of her might into that slap.

"I'm sorry—" Emily paused for another cry. "I didn't mean. That wasn't—it shouldn't have happened. It didn't matter much frustrated he was… I shouldn't have…"

_Enough with the damn apologies_, Leah thought, drawing back. She placed the ice aside and stood up, pinching the bridge of her nose. She took a series of deep breaths and asked, "How did she find out?"

It wasn't that Leah truly cared. She knew the secret would blow up in Emily's (and Sam's) face one of these days, but she supposed it was the detective in her that was curious.

"It slipped." She wrapped his arms around herself and rocked back and forth. "I didn't mean-"

Leah ran a hand through her hair and let out a deep breath. "You can't honestly believe you two could keep with the facade forever," she said, calm but with a noticeable bite. She didn't want to sound like a bitch, but the couple did have coming. "You have a kid. A _whole_ _child_."

Emily sniffled, adverting her gaze. "I wanted to move," she whispered, blinking away her tears. "But Sam..."

Emily didn't have to finish her statement. Leah knew her ex-husband, perhaps even more than his current lover. "He's not quitting his job," she told her cousin.

It would take the divine intervention of epic proportions to get that man out of Chicago.

Emily nodded, still not looking at her cousin's way.

This can't be all, Leah realized. There had to be something going on behind the scenes. Because of all of this? It didn't make any sense. In an ironic turn of events, she began to feel sorry for her cousin. Now, her own mother—Despite what Emily had done, Leah didn't think it was right for Maria to call her own child a whore. That was harsh.

Sometime later, Sue joined the other women in the kitchen. She soon handed both women a cup of tea and then sat at the kitchen table directly across from Emily, legs crossed, watching the other women intently. Her eyes eventually focused solely on Emily, and they weren't kind.

Leah wasn't used to seeing so much anger from her mother. She was the angry one! She was the one who supposed to hold grudges until the end of time! She sighed and helped Emily up. "I think it's time for you to go," she said in a tone used for perpetrators questioning whether they should continue on living. Emily was a wreck, and despite Leah's personal feelings towards her, she wanted to make sure she was okay. She would be okay. "Let me know when you get home, okay?"

Emily nodded, gulped, and said her goodbyes. She didn't dare touch Leah. Instead, she whispered her regret, drawing her into a goodbye hug. Sue reluctantly returned it, noticeably stiff, but Emily didn't say anything. Instead, she took a step back, gathered her things, and left.

"I shouldn't have let them in," Sue would later remark as she and Leah watched Emily get in her car and drive away. "I'm sorry. I know this wasn't something you wanted to deal with."

Absolutely drained, Leah couldn't come up with a response. She patted her mother on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen.

She needed Emily and Sam out of her life. Even it was at the expense of having a familial relationship with Abel.

She just couldn't take it anymore.

* * *

"You alright?"

Leah tried to maintain a straight face, but her yawn had betrayed her. Two hours of sleep— shit, she thought she was done with those kinds of nights. "Yeah."

"No, you're not."

Leah gave Jacob a dirty look, forcefully opened the car door and got inside. "Then why did you ask me?" She quickly buckled her seat belt, ready to go. It was currently seven in the morning; this wasn't a conversation she should have until _after_ the completion of coffee number one. She glanced at her partner and looked straight ahead. "Long night."

Leah expected Jacob to turn the key and start driving, but he didn't. She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to meet them. "Something tells me that's not it."

_This man_, she thought, forlorn but with a sliver of appreciation for Jacob's concern. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Leah hated it when Jacob did this. "That's it? Just okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Jacob shrugged. "Leah, I'm not gonna make you do something you don't want to do. If you don't want to talk about it, then don't talk about it."

Sometimes, this man-made her want to pull out her hair.

Leah huffed. "Why are you like this?"

It was a question Leah had been meaning to ask for months, for almost a year.

"Like what?"

"So goddamn accommodating," Leah said, feeling on edge for a reason she couldn't explain. Jacob's sense of acceptance was generally a positive trait; it was one of the reasons why Leah could tell Jacob practically anything. Now, it was just frustrating. "Just go with the flow."

"Oppose to stressing myself out?"

Jacob had a point, but it wasn't the response she wanted. She wanted him to ask her. She wanted him to grill her like she was a goddam perp. That man could read her to the extent that might rival her mother's. In a way, Leah felt the same way about him; he had admitted so to her a few times; complained, though in a joking manner, that he couldn't hide shit from her. It was frustrating yet endearing.

"You don't have to stress over me."

Jacob responded with a huff. He glanced at Leah, expression annoyed, bewildered, and ultimately, defeated before turning the key in the ignition, revving up the engine before driving off.

They remained quiet for the rest of the ride.

* * *

Leah ended telling Jacob about the Emily-Maria incident. She wanted to give him some context about her sour mood earlier, although Jacob insisted that she didn't have to explain shit to him. "You don't need to tell me everything," he had told her during a much-needed lunch at the burger place. "You never need to tell me anything."

"No, I want to," Leah had replied, giving him a slight, reassuring smile before taking a massive bite out of her BLT burger. Her arteries wouldn't be happy about the fat and cholesterol overload, but at the moment, Leah couldn't care less.

That burger was just what she had needed, though hours later, as she sat at her desk, she wished she had opted for a salad. She wasn't sick, but she felt so blah. "I don't know how you can eat that every day," she complained.

"I don't eat that every day," Jacob maintained. "Only twice a week. I gotta change my diet a bit. Can't stay young forever."

"I thought our aging slows down?"

"Yeah, but we still age."

"My goodness, you're not even forty yet."

"Yeah, but it's not like I'm that far off," Jacob argued, then, "I hope your aunt and Emily eventually reconcile. I mean, I know Emily's in the wrong, but a mother-daughter relationship is important." He cleared his throat. "I mean, it's not like Emily slept with her step-father... not to say what she did to you was better, but..."

"No, I get it," Leah muttered.

"So, I'm guessing she's not heading to Washington?"

"Sam isn't moving anywhere. Even if Maria was still in the dark. If anything, he'd move back to Texas, but I can't see that happening. Maybe in retirement, but not now."

"I know you don't give a shit, and I get it, but maybe it'll be good for Emily to lay low for a while. Not to say that anyone would forget about her options, but time may do her and Sam and most importantly Abel, some good."

Leah adverted her gaze. "Yeah."

"Damn, you divorced the man, uncontested, and you're _still_ in some shit," Jacob said, trying to lighten the mood again. "You need a camera crew."

"Too much work," Leah said with a dismissive wave. "I have to hide what I am, and honestly, I'm too tired to put up a front. Fuck facades."

* * *

"Even after your divorce, your life is still an episode of Jerry Springer," Aisha remarked that night, pouring Leah a glass of wine. It was wolf-bane free, but it would do the trick. It was still wine. "I thought your aunt moved back to Washington."

"She did," Leah said. "But then my dumbass cousin made a slip during their daily phone calls, and everything went downhill from there."

Aisha shook her head and took a sip of her drink. "This is such a shame. It could have been all avoiding if she told the truth…"

"It could have all been avoided if she hadn't fucked my husband," Leah grumbled. "Sorry, _ex_-husband." She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "This shit, it's never going to end. Just like this damn investigation."

"Don't think that way," Aisha softly demanded. She placed her glass aside and pulled her friend into a hug. "It'll get better. I promise."

* * *

Leah handed Jacob his morning coffee before taking a sip of her own, steaming hot, be damned. They were at a Northside corner restaurant, fetching a quick breakfast before getting back to work. The last workday before their much-needed weekend. "Can we make a pit stop to Rosehill today? If you don't mind."

"The cemetery? Aren't you morbid?" Jacob remarked, slightly amused. He downed some coffee and said, more serious. "Yeah, no problem."

"It'll be quick. I promise."

"Take as long as you like."

Leah hid a relieved smile behind her coffee as she followed her partner out of the eatery. She wouldn't tell Jacob the exact reason behind her seeming-out-of-the-blue request until some hours later, during their lunch break, as they entered the Rosehill Cemetery. "Today's the anniversary."

Jacob exited the car, followed by Leah, and locked it. Using his hand as shade, he looked around the enormous cemetery. The sun was out at full force today, making it one of the hottest days in the Chicago spring. But it was a perfect afternoon to visit. "Of?"

"My dad."

Jacob glanced at Leah, expression sympathetic. He dropped his hand and his shoulders. "Oh." He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

Leah gave him a small smile before leading him to the grave. "Every year, I come here on this day. Always alone." To be frank, she didn't know why she felt compelled to bring Jacob along. The visit personal; she never did this with anyone else. Not Aisha. Not even Sam. "It's better that way. My mom gets too emotional. Seth spends all of this time trying to comfort her… but by myself? It's peaceful."

"I'm here, though."

"Yeah, you are..." Leah trailed off when the familiar tombstone came into view. Last year's flowers were still there. Dried out, but were still there. "You don't have to..."

"No," Jacob said, insistent. "Show me."

She did.

"He wanted to be buried back at home. In Washington," Leah told Jacob minutes later they stood over Harry Clearwater's grave. "We have this plot, all Quileute, passed down from generation to generation. Amazing, isn't it? After all that happened during the past few centuries…" She trailed off with a sigh. "We wanted to honor his wishes, but in the end, dedicated would've been too much. By the time the investigation was over, my mom didn't think it was worth it—One of these days, I'm going to bring him back."

It was a long-shot, mainly because of money, but Leah was determined.

"The police fund didn't help?"

"It paid for other bills, including Seth and my tuition," Leah explained. She placed a hand on top of the tombstone. "It helped. It helped so much… but it didn't cover everything. We should have been fine with his life insurance. But he took his own life."

"You got nothing?"

"Not a damn thing," Leah replied, quite bitter, drawing her hand back. She understood why the policy was in place. But it wasn't fair, just like life. "It worked out in the end," she added, only to dissipate Jacob's worries. She wasn't sure if he was buying it.

"I know this may sound—" Jacob paused to gather his words, concerned that what he would say might offend Leah during this sensitive day. "I guess this is an example that life's too damn short. We're not vampires; we can't live on for centuries, and even then, they can drop dead…" He took Leah's hand; she didn't pull pack. "Life's too goddamn short." He locked eyes with hers. "Don't waste it on those who don't deserve a second of your time. Even if it's family."

Leah looked away. He was right. Goodness, Jacob was right. "Thank you," she said softly. "I'll try to remember that."

"You don't owe Emily _shit_. You don't owe Sam shit, and I think he realizes that. Maybe one day, your cousin will."

"She blamed me—"

"_No_. She lashed out because she knew she was wrong. If Sam didn't think you were giving him what he needed—whatever the fuck that means—then he should've divorced you a while ago."

"It's not easy…"

"I know it's not. And I don't think Emily's an evil person. She's just dumb. Doesn't have her priorities straight, I guess… but I think it's best if, you know, forget about her."

"Move on," Leah muttered.

"Yeah."

The idea sounded daunting, not that it was impossible. People ghosted their relatives all the time, but right now, for Leah, it was far easier said than done. Something would happen that would force Emily and Sam back into her life. Something.

"How long did that take you?"

"Years," Jacob admitted.

"Years," Leah repeated with a curt nod. The prospect didn't sound too promising, but she supposed that was just life. She deeply sighed, considering releasing her hand from Jacob's comforting hold, but didn't. It was fine. Her hand could stay there. "It's just…" She paused, mentally recalling the speeches from childhood. "I've always been taught that family is everything, you know. Family is—"

"Family doesn't have to be just blood."

Leah couldn't come up with a good response to that, but maybe it wasn't needed. She knew what he meant; he knew that she knew what he had meant. So, the detectives just sat there in comfortable silence. Leah liked to think that Jacob was doing the same thing she was: reevaluating her life, her relationship, her choices…

"Thank you for coming with me. _Here_," Leah would say eventually, sincerely, squeezing Jacob's hand. Her smile was small yet genuine. He didn't have to come with her, especially after knowing how much Harry's death affected her. But he was here, and he would probably never know how grateful she was for that. "I know cemeteries aren't your thing," she added with a light laugh.

Jacob returned with a small smile of his own. "Yeah, don't mention it."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

"How did Emily react to your decision?"

She would be perfectly fine if she hadn't had to speak about Emily ever again, but Dr. Murad felt otherwise. Leah supposed it made some sense. To feel better and make progress, she needed to express herself; she needed to spill out all of those feelings, no much how uncomfortable. Why else would she dish out so much money for these weekly sessions? Why else would be lying across this couch, resting her hands against folded hands, contemplating... she didn't know, life?

"As expected," Leah eventually said with a sigh. "The usual hysterics, followed by apologies. I think something is going on with her. Or maybe she's just in her feelings." She shrugged. "I don't know..."

"What did your ex say?"

"He wasn't there. I haven't talked to him about Emily since the divorce. All conversations have strictly been professional, work-related. We're both detectives, you know. Working for the same damn city."

"Do you regret your decision?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "To end it with him?"

"No, to end it with Emily."

Leah had only considered one fear when she decided to cut Emily off: the feeling of regret. Regret was a horrible thing to experience. Regret would only be there because of Leah's relationship with the woman she had once viewed as family.

Regret was not an issue when she had decided to let Sam go—She could see him here and there at work, talk to him over the phone without suppressing the desire to pull her (or his) hair out. But Emily, Emily was complicated because she had been in her life for years. _Damn it; they_ were raised as sisters.

Sam was a dumbass for destroying his marriage.

Emily was dumbass _and_ a bitch—

Or maybe that was too strong. Perhaps it didn't tell the whole story.

_Fuck_, Leah didn't know.

"My relationship with her is toxic," Leah confessed, perhaps for the first time. It was a sobering, tragic to an extent. "Maybe it has always been, but I didn't realize it until later. Emily's not a terrible person. Yes, she's a bitch sometimes, but... I don't know... maybe she has issues?"

"Everyone does," Murad insisted. "It simply manifests differently."

"I've never thought I'd hear a therapist admit to that," Leah said with a light chuckle. Yeah, everyone had a little crazy in them. "It reaffirms my faith in you."

"I'm glad," Murad said, then, "How was Vegas?"

Leah's eyebrows drew together. Vegas happened back in April; it was now mid-May. Then she realized, "Oh right, I haven't seen you in the past couple of weeks". She looked up at the ceiling, unable to fight her smile. She had great memories. "It was amazing. Relaxing, definitely needed." Her smile turned into a smirk. "Got laid."

From the corner of her eye, Leah could see Dr. Murad raise an eyebrow, slightly amused but maintaining professionalism. "A good thing?"

Leah let out a light snort. "Yes. It was just a one-night stand, though. I'm not ready for anything..." She trailed off, moving her hand in circles, trying to make a point but didn't know how to word it. "You know."

"I know. Sometimes, people need a break. An emotional one."

"Yeah... but," Leah shook her head, ridding her mind of those damn pervasive thoughts. "Nothing. It's fine. Really."

"Leah, do I have to remind you about the confidentiality laws?"

"No," Leah mumbled. She knew about the damn laws. That was why she was talking to Murad in the first place. No one outside of the room would have no to know. But it didn't mean—she had an issue with voicing her thoughts. Her desires. She just wanted them out of her head. "It's nothing."

Murad made an exasperated sound. "The look in your eyes suggest otherwise, but for now I will let it go."

Leah frowned. Oh, Murad got her again. She always _got_ her. Maybe that was why she was getting paid the bucks, being an asshole, coaxing people to bring out their best, and the worst thoughts. If it were any other circumstance, Leah would have hated (loved) her, but she supposed Murad's no-bullshit attitude was just what she needed.

Leah was sick and tired of people, sans a selected few, spewing out bullshit (especially after Sam's attempted murder), trying to make her feel better ("Oh, Leah, you'll find someone else"), lessen the blow ("It gets better").

Silence fell between the women until Murad spoke up, "Do you consider yourself to be emotionally compromised?"

Leah sat up on the couch, taken aback by the therapist's question. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you feel that you're not in tune with your emotions? Feel overwhelmed by them?"

"I mean, I feel like I'm going crazy half the time if that's what you mean." Leah shrugged; the discomfort had returned with a vengeance. "Shit, I don't know. So much shit's happened. Sam and Emily. Almost knocking on death's death. New unit. New captain. More goddamn deaths..."

The fact that was she no longer human.

Leah glanced up at the therapist, waiting for a response. But Murad didn't say anything; she was waiting for Leah to carry on. Frustrated, Leah ended up finishing her thought, "It's been, what, a year and a half? You know when I was the happiest?" Leah dropped her gaze. "When I got fake-married by an Elvis impersonator." She snorted. "How sad is that?"

"I wouldn't consider it to be sad," Murad replied, honestly, even adding a smile, reassuring smile. A rarity for her. "You decided without much thought. Without any care in the world. It's not sad. In fact, it can be liberating."

"Jacob's a good traveling companion," Leah added in quickly, but then realized she was veering slightly off-topic. This wasn't about Jacob. Not entirely... she could change topics but decided to carry on, "I know half the time he thought I was insane, but he went along with it. Even if he only got my candy-ring." She chuckled lightly at the memory. "Elvis was fun."

"Why?"

"First off, it's tacky as hell. My mom would've fainted and/or disown me if I had pulled that stunt eight years ago… Okay, maybe not _disown_. She's not as dramatic as my aunt—"

"It's far from traditional," Murad remarked with a little humor.

"Yeah…I've been told that I like to play things safe. I'm reserved. Rigid. Like to play by the rules. An Elvis wedding, well, that's out of the box, right? Totally unexpected from me."

"Do you think you only play by the rules?"

"I have a reputation at work for a reason."

Dr. Murad smirked. "I thought it was the strong personality."

"Both," Leah said. She wondered if therapists were _allowed_ to smirk at their clients. Smirking wasn't being supportive, right? Not that Leah would complain. "I've always been known as a goodie-two-shoes, and then after the whole cheating debacle, a frigid bitch."

"Has that changed?"

"I mean, people still have their opinions." Leah sighed. "But... I know I complain about the never-ending workload, but the unit I am in right now, it's a breath of fresh air. Most of the people there are too focused on their jobs to be assholes."

* * *

Leah received the message on a Wednesday morning.

It was from Ben.

_Check the news._

Leah quickly selected her Twitter app and checked on the trending hashtags. There it was: hotel employee and mob associate with connections to human trafficking arrested by authorities at Miami International Airport—Lassiter.

_Can we talk to him?_

_I'll see what I can do._

* * *

"It's better than a 'no'," Jacob said, checking the news on his phone as well. "If the feds get what they want, our friend, Lassiter, is done."

"He may get put away for life."

Jacob nodded, putting aside his phone. Several seconds of silence fell between the partners, until Jacob asked, "Do you think it's too obvious that everything is pointing to Esme setting up Jessica's murder?"

Leah wasn't expecting that question from her partner. Esme, she was the focal point of the Dahlia investigation. All the detectives needed was some hard evidence. "She has a motive."

"Yeah, a damn good one, but I don't know..." Jacob leaned back in his seat, twirling a pen with a deep, pensive expression on his face. "There's something about it that bothers me. Like there's something more involved going on."

Leah shrugged. "Welcome to this investigation."

"If Esme were the one arranging everything, we would have found ample evidence. I'm confident about that." Jacob sat up. "Yeah, she's on the radar because she's the scorned wife, but..."

It wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Many cases took a left turn at the least expected time. Leah cleared her throat. "You think someone's framing her?"

Jacob shook his head. "I think someone's letting her take the blame. Laying low." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I mean, I think Gianna's death points to that. Why get her involved?"

"Maybe the killer, Demetri, wanted to silence her?" Leah offered. "After all, she witnessed Jessica dying."

"Hm, you're right..."

Leah studied her partner. "You have doubts."

"I'm a detective," Jacob said, feigning arrogance, and then, "Of course, I have doubts. It's like we're going around in circles. Every time we turn around, something new pops up. About the escort service. The bullets...And now, with this Heidi mess."

"I do find it interesting that she allegedly told Patrick to keep his mouth shut," Leah had to admit. "That doesn't sound too innocent at all."

"It doesn't."

"Want to call her in?"

Jacob dropped his arms. "Yeah, let's."

Leah picked up the phone and quickly dialed Heidi's number. "Schedule it for the end of the week?"

"Yeah, I'm sure she's gonna want Rosalie to be there."

* * *

"I know we're like five seconds from pining Esme to the suspect's dartboard, but Jacob may have a point about her involvement," Aisha said the following day. "This is bigger than a pissed-off wife. I'm pretty sure it involves a sex ring... which is conveniently associated with a former hotel concierge currently in federal custody."

"Yeah, I heard about that," Embry remarked. "He's fucked."

"Majorly," Jacob added.

Leah sighed, feeling like she was in the middle of an invention due her to so-called inability not to call Esme a prime suspect. For the record, she never thought Esme had actually committed the crime. Demetri had killed Jessica (purposely or not); there was clear video evidence of that. She simply thought Esme had a hand in it.

"Have any other theory?"

Aisha, Jacob, and Embry exchanged looks, waiting on the other to speak up. None did.

"Any other suspect not named Demetri Karlov?"

Aisha ended up speaking up for the rest of the group, "No, but we did find some information about the mysterious fifth person present in the hotel room. We don't have a name, but we do know that he works for Maria. Well, for the most part. He's self-employed, but he did some work for the cartel, including quality control of contraband."

The detective pulled out a picture of the fifth person. A blown-up, detailed profile full from the security camera.

Embry leaned closer, and then his eyes widened. "Wait a minute—" He pointed at the picture. "He's dead. He was one of those guys found in the slaughterhouse, right inside the walls." He grimaced. "Dude, I can never forget their faces. That whole crime scene was _fucked_ _up_."

Leah frowned.

Yet another dead witness.

* * *

"All we want to know is why you directed one of your employees to keep his mouth shut during the Dahlia investigation."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Leah resisted the urge to share a frustrating look with her partner. Sonja—_Heidi's_ statement was one of the classic bullshit ones. Didn't know anything? Yeah, it was usually the complete opposite.

"Yes, you do," Jacob challenged.

Heidi, as always, was dressed to the nines, head to toe in black leather, perhaps costing more than Leah's paycheck during the last six months. Despite the texture, the socialite still looked sleek. Rosalie was on her right, wearing nothing but a sharp suit and her game face. Her paralegal, Alice Brandon, stood outside of the room, which might seem counterproductive for she was also a vampire.

"Who is this employee?" Rosalie asked, head slightly tilted, eyes boring into Jacob. She wasn't looking for a verbal answer. She was looking for the right body language she could use to exploit.

"Your client should know," Leah smoothly replied for Jacob, staring at Heidi straight in the eyes when the lawyer's attention shifted. Heidi remained defiant, holding her head up high as if she knew she was going to get off on any charges. Of course, she was. Rosalie Hale was her lawyer, but Leah wasn't intimidated. Rosalie was an expert, but she, like every goddamn person on this planet, wasn't perfect. "You gave him an order."

"I've given many people orders. I'm an employer. That's what I do." The socialite adjusted her Chanel scarf, folded her hands on the desk, and carried on, "Ah, I suppose I did answer my question. Patrick." She shook her head and scoffed. "A man convicted of attempted murder. Of course, he would tell you anything to receive leniency."

"Yeah, that's why we invented plea bargains," Jacob retorted. "So, you want to give us an answer, or do you want to keep wasting our time and your legal fees on bullshit?"

Even Leah was taken aback by Jacob's snark. That was usually reserved for her (and for Paul when he was speaking to other agencies and his supervisors).

"Language, Detective," Rosalie replied, tsk-ing. "We're all adults—"

"Answer the question, Heidi," Leah demanded.

The name slip wasn't intentional. Leah had wanted to keep the real name under wraps until Heidi was pushed into a corner. However, the result was still satisfying; Heidi recoiled at the sound of her name before returning to her haughty self. Rosalie was taken aback but quickly regained her composure.

Leah wasn't looking in his direction, but she could sense Jacob's smirk.

"Heidi?" The socialite brought a hand to her chest, aghast. She glanced at her counsel for a reaction, but she wouldn't get one. Rosalie's eyes were solely on Leah, studying, telling to decipher the detective's next move. Defeated, Heidi did what she did best, play dumb. "I beg your pardon, my name is—"

Jacob let out a loud huff. "Do you think we're stupid?" he accused. "Do you honestly think you can fool us? You're not the only one with connections, Baumgartner. We know all about your association with the Volturi. So, you may as well tell the truth."

"Aside," Rosalie sharply requested.

Jacob tossed his hands up. "Fine." He looked at Leah. "Wanna go?"

"No problem," Leah replied, rising from her seat. She knew Rosalie far better than Jacob. She could get a response from the woman, either than the usual legal jargon. She motioned the lawyer to follow her as she exited the room.

* * *

"I thought we had agreed that my client's name, proper name, is Sonja DuPont. This Heidi/Sonja-business needs to stop."

"Why? Because it makes her uncomfortable?" Leah had to roll her eyes. Heidi being difficult wasn't going to do her any favors. She, as well as Jacob, was fed up with the woman. "Here's the scoop, Rosalie: I don't give a damn."

"What is your endgame regarding DuPont?" Rosalie glowed up at Leah, but the detective didn't recoil. "What do you want?"

"Some goddamn answers for once in my goddamn life," Leah snapped. She wasn't too upset with Rosalie; the lawyer was simply doing her job. She was frustrated with the case. Over a year had passed since the Dahlia's death, and not _one_ goddamn person was arrested for it.

Rosalie sighed and shook her head. "My client—"

"Is going to get slammed for extortion and solicitation. Just give it some time, Rosalie. If we don't get her, the feds will," Leah explained hotly. "They're still pissed off about the Volturi's little disappearing act; they want to bring _everyone_ down."

"I'm a champion of reciprocation," Rosalie eventually said. She found herself in a pickle, Leah realized. She was playing defense. This was good, very good. "I gave you information about Patrick; now you owe me something."

Leah was about to declare that she didn't own Rosalie shit but then changed her tune. It might work out in her favor, depending on the reaction. "You know, you're right," she said, surprising the fixer who was clearly expecting a fight. "Your client wants to remain in the Volturi's good graces so she can get reinstated, right? Well, it's a waste of time. She fucked up an assignment, and even after all these years, they won't forgive her."

Rosalie narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"They're using her."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to," Leah said coolly with a shrug. "This is just me giving you information. Because reciprocation is important. What you do with it is your and your client's prerogative, but…" she let out a dramatic sigh. "I don't understand. The Volturi is supposed to be family. They know Heidi's in trouble. It's all over the news, but they still haven't offered any support. Sure, they're in Moldova, but they have people in high places. Heidi could have done better than hiring the unofficial official counsel of her so-called family's rival—No offense."

"None taken," Rosalie said, flat. She straightened her posture. Her resolve was rock solid, but Leah could see the minute cracks. It seemed that Rosalie previously had her doubts as well.

"So?"

"So, what?" Rosalie replied, crossing her arms. "It's just a rumor. I work with hardcore facts, Detective."

"I know you do," Leah said. She glanced at the interview room and asked, "Is this aside over?"

"It's over," Rosalie snapped. "And so is this interview."

* * *

"You think she's gonna fall for this?" Jacob asked as he and Leah watched Heidi and Rosalie walked out of the station, both heads held up high. They both under the assumption that they had "won" the interview. Leah didn't mind if they thought that way. It would lower their guards and make the detective's life easier.

"All Heidi wants is acceptance from the Volturi. What happens when she learns that's never going to happen?" Leah shrugged. "I'd be pissed off if I were her. Heidi doesn't come off as being a passive person, despite what she wants us to believe. She will react to the news, and during her moment of emotional turmoil, she'll call us and spilled the beans."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Will she?"

"It's happened before."

* * *

"Can you believe what that fool, Jay, did? I mean, _damn_. Your visa just got expired, then, you decide to cheat on the only person who's keeping you from being deported. You hooked up with a client, inside your job's bathroom. Your _job_. Man, you gotta _think_."

Leah chuckled as Embry enthusiastically expressed his opinion on the latest _90 Day Fiancé_ episode. She was so glad that during her near-death recovery, she was able to convince the younger man that train wreck reality shows were amazing. Now, if only Jacob and her mother could see the light.

"Yeah." Leah nodded. "Not the brightest bulb. What's up with you men being stupid when it comes to cheating?"

Example—Sam.

"We're not all dumb," Embry pointed out. "We just get stupid when all of the blood travels down south." He shrugged. "It happens to everyone."

"Sure."

"Hey, it even happens to women," Embry smirked at Leah's narrowed eyes. "What is it called again, dickmatized?"

Leah's laugh caught the attention of some coworkers passing by. She ignored them, clearing her throat. "You have a point," she said, still trying to stifle some lingering chuckles—she still didn't understand why she found the topic so amusing. But she did.

"Thank you."

"But there's a difference," Leah maintained. "There's denial, and then, there's stupidity."

Embry snapped his fingers. "Point—_Hey_, my man, Jared, for what purpose do you bless us with your presence?"

Jared stuck out his tongue at the cop. He quickly changed his tune when Leah greeted him from his right. He was a little scared of her, she had realized months ago. But she didn't think it was fear; she had been grilling an arrogant prep. Of course, she had to be menacing. "Got a package for you."

Leah thanked Jared for the package he had given up. "Still the mailman?" she asked, teasing.

Jared rolled his eyes. "Paul can be an ass sometimes."

"Is that because of your stunt from last week?" Embry asked, mocking the Hell out of his packmate. "You're lucky you're not on admin-leave."

"It wasn't my fault," Jared maintained. "How was I supposed to know?" He stopped and looked down at the detective. "Can I look?"

"Look at you, being nosy," Leah joked. "Only because you helped us out with the security tapes—"

"_Cameron_!"

"Oh, you have got to be shitting me," Jared groaned, tossing his hands up before turning around. "Made one stupid move, and this is what I get."

"Tough love," Embry called out, laughing when the cop gave him the finger.

"Leave him alone," Leah chided. She ran a hand down her face, a gesture that was quickly becoming her favorite. Unfortunately. "This investigation is driving up the goddamn wall, you hear me?"

Embry nodded. "It's draining."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"I thought I was gonna last a few months, tops," the younger cop admitted. "A lady was found dead in her hotel. Supposed to be something simple, robbery, or a homicidal lover. That's usually what happened."

"That was _what_ happened." Leah checked for the return address. It was fake. Of course, it was. "Only there's more to the story. Much more."

"This is a case for the feds."

"Yeah, like the higher brass going to let this investigation go," Leah argued. She rolled her eyes, not at her friend, but the system. Everyone wanted to have bragging rights. Potentially jeopardizing the investigation (and people), be damned. "For them, this is gold. It's going to bolster a lot of people's careers."

"This is going nowhere."

"Not true. It's moving an unimaginably slow pace, but it's going places." Leah cut open the package with a box cutter. Whoever sent this wasn't messing around. But nothing nefarious was inside; Leah didn't know how she knew exactly, but she just knew. Smelled nothing but wood. Paper. "Exhibit A."

Embry raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. "What? A shit ton of files?"

It was probably nothing, but if there was one thing Leah had learned from this job, it was to be realistically optimistic when it came to information. One never knew what they would get or from whom.

"Files contain words," Leah explained carefully as if Embry was her pupil; he played along. "Files contain information—" She stopped and scanned the office. "Where's our fearless leader? He should be present during this most monumental moment."

"Which one?" Embry asked, with a slight chuckle. "The boss during work or after?"

"Jacob isn't our boss," Leah insisted, and then after thinking about it, "I think that's a strong word. Guided leader is more like it."

"Oh damn, I can't wait until I tell him that," Embry teased, rubbing his hands together.

Leah narrowed her eyes, threatening. "You won't."

Embry put up his hands. "Okay, I won't." He let out a nervous chuckle, and then in a more serious voice, "He's tied up with questioning for the next hour. Fangs are being assholes again."

"Yeah, most gangs are," Leah still wasn't entirely clear what was happening with the St. Louis-sometimes Chicago-based shapeshifter gang. Jacob wasn't officially involved for obvious reasons, but Martinez still needed his input. If there was one person without a criminal record who knew about the gang, it was Jacob—Leah had a mental note to ask him about it later. "What are we looking at?"

"Three members are going down for attempted murder and grand larceny," Embry explained. "They didn't get the memo to lay low."

Of course, they did. Time and time again, gangsters found themselves in some shit because they either didn't know how to keep their mouths shut or they believed they were celebrities and needed to be seen everywhere.

"That's one thing I give the Cullen's credit for. Laying low."

Ever since Esme had assumed control of the coven following the incarceration of her husband's replacement, Edward Masen, things had been quiet. At least, at face value. Esme was a woman who valued her reputation. Committing crimes outright, like dropping bodies, would not do her precious reputation any favors.

At the moment, the Cullen's were supposedly only participating in legitimate businesses, especially in the construction market.

"Never thought I'd hear you give the Cullen's credit for anything," Embry commented and pointed at the files. "So, anything juicy in there?"

"Pictures. Newspaper clippings..." Leah placed the files on the desk and sifted through them. She picked up one photo of Irina, dressed in a maid costume, marked Halloween 1978. "She seems happy in this photo."

"That costume did _wonders_ for her body," Embry mused, smirking as he caught Leah's annoyed expression from the corner of his eye. "Oh c'mon, you have to admit that it does."

Leah gave Embry a deadpanned look. "You know she's dead, right?"

"So?" Embry shrugged. "Hey, Paul Walker's dead, and my mom _still_ moons over him. Calling him her future husband."

"Yes, Embry." Leah checked the photo out again. "It does look nice on her."

"See!" Embry pumped his fist. "Thank you."

"You're such a professional," Leah replied, sarcastic. She picked up another photo from Halloween 2016. Gianna was cheesing with Heidi; both dressed in supposedly Native garb, headdresses, and all. Leah grimaced at the picture and tossed it on the growing pile.

"They look like idiots," Embry remarked, glancing at the photo. "Or is that me being too PC?"

"No, they look like idiots." Leah picked up a photo of interest and held it up for Embry to see. "Oh, look at this: the late Mr. DuPont."

The couple appeared happy with their arms wrapped around, dressed as "yacht-wear" with the gorgeous shores of St. Tropez behind them, but their tight smiles and stiff body language suggested otherwise.

"She killed that man," Embry declared.

The last time Leah had seen such a determined expression on Embry's face was when he had declared that there was, indeed, traces of a second victim inside the infamous LaPush hotel suite.

"Maybe, not that we can do anything about it. She was cleared on both criminal and civil charges. Murder-one, murder-two, manslaughter, conspiracy. Wrongful death. They tried everything, but she had a fantastic lawyer."

"Mark Crane, isn't it? He's still alive. Still getting people off. Why didn't she hire him this time?"

Leah was wondering that herself. Crane would have made perfect sense. He was loyal, money-wise, to the Volturi. But no, Heidi decided to choose an "associate" of the Cullen family. Something had to give. "I honestly don't know."

The detective continued to dig through the files until she caught sight of something that wasn't an invoice or a picture from a soiree. It was a letter, dated December 1984, from Irina to Heidi, written entirely in Hungarian. A language, Leah knew nothing about. She set it aside for further examination. At least, Heidi could lie about that association.

"It's something."

"It's something," Leah reaffirmed, pulling out yet another page. Her eyes widened as she scanned through the letter — all in English, dated November 2017. "Oh, my god," she breathed, bringing a hand to her face. "Oh, my fucking _god_."


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

"Well, this escalated quickly," Paul remarked, leaning back in his chair with feet on the desk. In front of him, Leah and Jacob sat down, waiting for their supervisor to digest the information. In the captain's hand, was a significant break in the case. "Are you sure this is authentic...? Please, tell me it's authentic."

"Yes," Leah said, confident. "What you have is a correspondence between Gianna Castellano and Irina Denali. It appears that Gianna wasn't only loyal to the Volturi. For ten thousand dollars, she provided the Olympic coven valuable information while receiving information about the UV's."

Based on the letter, it was clear that Gianna, like Jessica, had been double-crossing a _very_ powerful family. All for ten thousand dollars? _That's insulting_, Leah thought. If she were going to betray a clan that held the power of life and death over her head, she would have certainly demanded more money.

"We have a motive," Paul declared.

Leah nodded.

"Someone found out," Jacob further explained. "Someone told the Volturi who ordered the hit on Gianna because she talked. Someone they could trust…"

"Demetri," Paul suggested.

"Cause of death was different from Jessica's," Leah added. "Gianna didn't die from a bite. She had her throat slashed, somewhere outside of LaPush. And per Volturi orders, dumped at the landfill. It's the ultimate disrespect."

"They didn't even want her blood," Jacob remarked.

"Why not kill her before?" Paul asked. "Why drag her into the Dahlia mess?"

"Gianna was used to lure people to Demetri," Leah told the captain. "Maybe Jessica wanted her there? Trusted her? And Demetri, he enjoyed her. Why not have one more last ride?"

"Also," Jacob added, "Come to find out, Gianna was also the liaison between LaPush and the Volturi. Although Demetri was calling the shots, no one wanted a known mobster on their records. Gianna, someone without any criminal record, was safe. She was personable. She was the only one allowed to get the hotel key. She needed to be there."

Leah followed up her partner with, "She told Irina, who told Esme about the plan against Jessica. She didn't think it was a good idea, given Carlisle's relationship with the woman, but the Volturi had made their decision."

Paul sat up, folded his arms, and frowned. "So, did LaPush."

Days later, Leah smirked, proud and triumphant, holding the phone to her ear as the message on her answering machine played on. It seemed that Mrs. DuPont didn't take the news about being used very lightly. She, like Rosalie, had her suspicions but believed that after everything she had done for the Volturi, who was supposed to be like family; she was simply in denial.

"She's gonna talk?" Jacob asked.

"She's gonna talk," Leah affirmed, smirk growing as she ended the message. She wrote the details of the upcoming meeting with the scorned socialite. "Tomorrow at nine am. You down?"

Jacob brought a hand to his chest. "I'm insulted you had to ask."

* * *

Jenks dropped the breaking news later that afternoon. "Mrs. Sonya DuPont is currently under federal investigation for her possible association with a human trafficking network, criminal organization and bribery of public officials and the death of her husband, Mr. DuPont—but you didn't that from me."

Leah and Jacob exchanged a look of surprise.

"The jury found her not guilty," Leah carefully pointed out.

"Yes, but that was Cook County court," Jenks explained, lighting up one of his precious cigars. "I'm talking about federal. A _whole_ different ball game."

And it appeared that Carolina Barba was back to her old tricks. Good for the criminal justice system, not so good for the prosecutor's target. Barba had vowed quite a few times, quite vehemently that she would raise hell on the covens (only those involved in criminal enterprises, she would always emphasize) despite threats on her life.

"Barba's gonna throw the book at her," Jacob said.

Jenks nodded. "Unless they strike a deal," he said. "Which I believe they will. That woman had a plethora of information, as you both know. We probably don't even know the whole story."

They most likely didn't.

"She's a madam," Leah said. "They're known for harboring secrets."

"Exactly, which is most likely the reason why Miss Hale is her lawyer. There's probably damaging information in that woman's documents, including, but not limited to, her client book."

"Still couldn't get a subpoena?" Jacob asked the prosecutor.

"It's a bit complicated," Jenks admitted. "But if we can't get it, I'm sure the feds will. They're open to sharing information due to their newfound interest in the Voldemort's investigation."

Leah's expression was deadpanned. "Again."

Jenks shrugged. "Hey, priorities can change and then change back."

"You're allowed to tell us this?" Jacob asked.

"As I said before: you didn't hear all of this from me. It's technically confidential, but not classified." Jenks waved flippantly. "We should be fine."

"So, what do we do with Heidi?" Leah asked. "Due to information provided by a source, she's willing to talk. We have a meeting with her and Rosalie tomorrow. And I bet she's expecting some sort of deal."

Jenks raised an eyebrow, removing the cigar from between his lips. "A plea deal?"

"Or immunity," Jacob suggested.

"If you haven't noticed, we can't hand out plea deals or witness protection like candy," Jenks said, shaking his head. "We already gave Jane immunity. The judge won't accept another one. We can devise a plea bargain, but it won't save her from the feds."

"That's not our problem," Leah said. It might be harsh for a woman who might deserve it, but it was the truth. CPD didn't handle federal investigations. If Heidi wanted some leeway, she was going to have to talk to the agents. "That's not our jurisdiction."

Jenks nodded, leaning back against his chair. He brought the cigar to his mouth and deeply breathed in, letting the smoke flow through of his nostrils. "No, Detective, it is not."

* * *

"Thank you, Mrs. DuPont, for agreeing to meet with us."

"It wasn't like I had much of a choice," Heidi bit out, arms crossed, mad at the world. She was sitting, notedly dressed down, next to Rosalie, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but inside a police station's interview (interrogation) room.

"Still, we appreciate it."

Heidi huffed and rolled her eyes.

So dramatic.

"What do you want to know?"

Leah folded her hands and leaned in. "Everything."

Heidi checked in with her counsel, who, although reluctantly, nodded. "Carry on."

"So, are you a matchmaker, or are you a pimp?" Jacob put up a hand to stop and correct himself. "Sorry, _madam_?"

Leah found a smile. Jacob being snarky and getting straight to the point, two of the things about dishing out the questions with him. Nothing flowery. No fake pleasantries. Only questions needing to be answered. The investigation was time-sensitive. Shit had to get rolling.

"Pimp is a strong word," Heidi carefully replied, echoing Alister's words from months before. She had her palms set down flat on the table, a meditation method, Leah realized. "I arrange dates between willing parties. The exchange of money and other luxuries are simply addendums."

_So, she's a madam_, Leah wrote in her notepad. For her sake, Heidi better come up with a better job description before the agents came knocking on her door. Leah set her pen aside and asked, "Why did you direct Patrick no to cooperate with the police?"

"Isn't he cooperating now?" Heidi retorted but dropped the act at the sight of her lawyer's warning glance. She cleared her throat. "It wasn't a _direction_; it was a recommendation. We have enough problems."

"He was a witness."

"He didn't see anything."

"Maybe, but he was in the same hotel room, not far before Jessica's death," Jacob said. "It would've saved us a lot of time."

Heidi snorted. "Like I care about your time."

"You should," Jacob smirked. "If Patrick had spoken to us earlier, you wouldn't be here with us. Talking to us to make a deal."

Heidi gasped, putting a hand of her chest, offended. She looked to her lawyer for a response, but she didn't provide one. Rosalie knew Jacob was right; her hardened stare told the detectives such.

Rosalie's behavior was interesting. Gone was her usual fiery spirit, ready to sue any person in a drop of the dime. Rosalie was making sure that her client didn't do anything that would jeopardize a potential deal. Rosalie wasn't putting up much of a fight because she didn't think it would be worth it. A fight meant more subpoenas. Once a guilty plea or such was processed, Heidi would, more or less, be left one—

Ah, that was why Rosalie had agreed to be her counsel. It wasn't because of Heidi; it was because of what Heidi _had_. The quicker the Heidi situation could be squashed, the easier Rosalie's life would be—or so she thought. Leah had a feeling that Rosalie knew about the federal investigation involving her client.

Leah remained quiet for a moment, studying the two women across from her, and then, purposely throwing the other side off, asked, "What was the nature of your relationship with Demetri Karlov?"

Heidi shared a look with her counsel, who, arms tightly crossed, curtly nodded. "Demetri?"

"Yes, Demetri," Jacob confirmed.

Leah hadn't expected to see such a visible reaction from the socialite. Heidi had known Demetri alright. They had known each other for a while; their relationship was personal, but not romantic. Heidi's eyes didn't glisten at the sound of Demetri's name or as she described him. Her words were full of familial fondness. To her, Demetri hadn't just been a comrade—it was odd, given Leah's information on the man, that someone would see such a deviant being in a positive light.

"Demetri and I... he was like a brother to me. We went through everything during the past several centuries. We were each other's rock." Heidi sighed, now placing her hands under the table, presumably on her lap. "I thought him everything about the art of seduction. He was an attractive man, but back then? During the fourteenth century?" Heidi shook her head, features softening as she recalled the memory. It was a look Leah hadn't expected from each a woman. "He did not have—what do people call it now? Game. It took him a good hundred years to be on the right track and after that... it was history."

"Were you two close as of a couple of years ago?" Leah asked.

"We were always close even after my untimely departure from the Volturi," Heidi replied. "He always told me that he wanted me back. Become his partner-in-crime once again. He promised that if I helped him out, he would put in a good word to Aro, convince him that what happened years ago had been a miscalculation."

"Why did they let you go?" Jacob asked.

"I was supposed to seduce a judge, a client of my business," Heidi said with some bitterness, confirming Ben's intel. "The Volturi wanted him to abandon whatever arrangement he had with the Cullens and the Denalis and become one of their many lapdogs."

_Sorio_, Leah realized. Goodness, it was like the fucking circle of life. Or six-degrees of separation. _Everybody_ was connected. "How about—?"

"My client will no longer discuss her departure from the Volturi," Rosalie interjected. "As mentioned in our agreement."

Leah gave the lawyer an exasperated look but backed off. "Right," then, "Mrs. DuPont, what do you know about circumstances behind Demetri Karlov's death?"

After receiving approval, though hesitant, from Rosalie, Heidi once again placed her hands flat on the table and said, "They say it was a suicide, but I know it wasn't. I might have been fond of Demetri, but many were not. Even within the Volturi."

"Are you implying their involvement?"

Heidi shook her head. "Not at all. I know for a fact that they wouldn't choose such a way to kill the man." She leaned back in her seat. "My guess is one of the Cullen-boys. One who knew of Jessica's relationship with him and after she did, made sure he was silenced."

"Why?"

"Demetri was not the one for secrets, both a blessing and a curse. He would have discussed his affair with Jessica, and what would that achieve? Nothing but chaos within the coven," Heidi explained. "Plus, the Cullen's had it out for him for centuries. Jessica's death was the catalyst."

"Which one?"

"The Cullen boys?" Heidi provided with a shrug. "Jasper, Sicario, would be the most obvious choice, but from what I hear, he's no longer an enforcer. The job was too sloppy for Emmett, so I suppose Edward would make the most sense. He usually did his boss' personal bidding without consulting the others."

"Do you think Carlisle knew about Jessica and Demetri?" Leah asked. Technically, Jessica's dalliances with Demetri weren't on the record, but Heidi knew about the affair.

"I don't know," Heid said. "But Esme did."

"Do you think she told Carlisle about Jessica's other lover?"

"I honestly don't know," Heidi said. "It can go both ways."

"What information can you provide us about the death of Jessica Stanley?" Jacob asked.

"I suppose your main suspect is Esme. I understand. Jilted wife upset with her husband's mistress." Heidi shrugged like it was nothing in the world, but then, seriously, "I am not ashamed to admit that I was never a fan of the late Cullen's wife, but I know she did not do the deed. I know she did not arrange it. It was just a convenient turn of events because Jessica was sleeping with her husband—"

Leah never thought she would hear a Volturi-associate defend a member of the Olympic coven. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I was there when the plans were set," Heidi admitted, and then quickly clarified. "I wasn't _involved_ in the actual meeting, simply present. See, Jessica was creating an issue for everyone. Rumor has it was that she was trying to undercut her bosses. All of them by introducing low-grade UV's. She was in contact with some street dealers…" She trailed off and shrugged. "Can't tell you much about that."

"You knew Jessica, right?" Jacob asked. "Do you think she's capable of that?"

"She can be smart when she wanted to," Heidi replied. "I warned her about everything. Even about going to Alistair, but she wanted Carlisle. Everything was about that man. See, Carlisle had connections in the arms market, even more than the Volturi, believe it or not." She snorted. "She… I guess she wanted to impress everyone. Wanted to give them a reason to give her the bite. You know, it's not something my kind gives out like candy."

"You couldn't personally hook her up with Carlisle?"

"With my supposed affiliation?" Heidi shook her head and snorted. "Absolutely not."

"Tell me about Jessica?"

Heidi raised an eyebrow. "More than I have already told you?"

Both detectives nodded.

She needed to make money to keep up with her lifestyle, and she found the supernatural world intriguing. She was a pretty girl with an infectious personality, so of course, I took her in."

"How long ago was this?"

"About three years ago," Heidi answered. "She was very popular, very likable. I introduced her to some of my associates, including Demetri. He took a liking into her. She had aspirations of becoming a vampire, but we couldn't help her. Frustrated, she went to Alistair."

"Are you and Alistair rivals?"

"Friendly," Heidi said. "He aligns himself more with the Olympic while I with the Volturi…" she trailed off, gaze losing focus. Leah figured she was recalling the real reason why she was being questioned. "Or so I thought."

Leah jotted down some notes. "I see."

"Esme knew it was going to happen. Hell, so did I. So, I suppose the only crime we both committed was not doing anything about it."

_Among other things_, Leah thought, exchanging glances with her partner. He was thinking the same thing.

"That is not a crime," Rosalie spoke up, determined.

"Didn't say it was," Jacob said. "Carry on, Mrs. DuPont."

Heidi bit her lip, uncharacteristically losing her well-manicured resolve. But it was only temporary. In a blink of an eye, she was back to being _her_. "I knew about it due to eavesdropping. Esme told me that she knew about it because Gianna told her about it. Gianna was playing on both sides."

Jacob raised both eyes. "She told _you_? You two talk to each other?"

"Once in a blue moon," Heidi confessed, frowning. "Anyway, I suppose someone found out and killed Jessica."

Leah nodded and pulled out a photo from the file. She held it up high for both Heidi and Rosalie to see, studying the shift on their faces, their eyes. There was acknowledgment in both women's eyes. "Do you recognize him?"

Heidi leaned over to study the page and then retreated. "Arms dealer. Worked with Maria. There are rumors that he was involved in the production of knock-off UV's."

_Interesting_. That dealer who was holding the case full of low-grade UV's had to have been in cahoots with Jessica. The one Embry had identified just this past week as one of the slaughterhouse victims…

A thought came to Leah's mind: perhaps, Jessica was the one who set up the events of that night. After all, the room was in her name; she had booked the room, supposedly, in celebration of her birthday. Maybe Jessica wanted Demetri to be cool with the idea, cool enough to think she deserved the bite and wanted him to see the product for himself. Perhaps she had been under the belief that Demetri would be more agreeable when occupied.

The theory might be a stretch, but it did make sense.

Relatively speaking.

"What about Gianna?" Jacob asked.

Heidi sighed. "Gianna. Oh, Gianna. She wanted to be a vampire. That was why she worked for the Volturi, but she had nothing they wanted. Poor her, she was so innocent. Relatively speaking." She shrugged, not seeming to care about the murder victim. "She had a complicated relationship with Demetri."

'Complicated enough to get killed by him?"

"Honestly, I am not too sure about what happened between the two," Heidi admitted. "All I know is that the Volturi wanted Gianna dead because she betrayed them—exactly, how, I am not sure. They were so disgusted by her actions that her blood wasn't worthy of being consumed."

"Bad blood," Jacob added.

Heidi nodded.

_Goodness_, Leah couldn't help but think. If whatever Heidi saying was true, then the Cullens weren't implicitly improved in the deaths of Jessica Stanley and Gianna Castellano. Their only crime (relating to the death, that is) was obstructing the investigation by attempting to bribe Dr. Swan and successfully bribing the disgraced Sorio into hampering Jessica's autopsy.

"One last topic: do you know someone by the name of Thomas James?" Jacob asked, switching topics, throwing Heidi off guard. "A vampire, turned back in the eighties. Aspiring actor living out in California? He was declared as missing—"

Heidi's reply was delayed. "He's dead."

Jacob was surprised. "Really?"

"Explain," Leah demanded.

"Felix got to him," Heidi said. "I suppose they found out about Thomas' friendship with Mike Newton, a man who should've died in that bombing. Along with that human woman he was traveling with."

"Do you have proof?"

"No, I simply have eyes in many places," Heidi said. "Unfortunately for my former employers, they didn't get what they wanted during that mission: Mike Newton and that girl. By the time they knew where they were— in Nebraska, I believe— the Cullen's had reached them and brought them back to Chicago." She gave the detectives a pointed look. "I'm sure you know about that."

"How did Thomas die?" Leah asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you know where his body is?" Jacob asked.

"No. Most likely, he was drained of his blood and tossed into the Pacific."

The questioning would continue for another ten minutes. When everyone was about to leave the room, Heidi stopped Leah. "One last thing," she said. "And it can be off the record: If I were you, I'd tell Jane that she can't hide in the shadows forever." She added a smirk. "The Volturi knows about her move, and when the right time arrives, they will act."

Jacob cleared his throat.

Leah raised an eyebrow, challenging. "All the way from Moldova?"

"The Volturi has friends in high places," Heidi declared, head up high. "How do you think they were able to leave this country so quickly when every three-letter agency was after them?"

* * *

"No hath fury like a woman scorned," Paul declared sometime later after Leah and Jacob provided him an update on one Mrs. DuPont.

"That's not actually how the quote goes," Leah pointed out with a smirk.

"Thank you, Detective," Paul said, mocking sincerity, causing the detective to snort. The captain leaned back against his chair, nodding with approval. "Damn, Mrs. DuPont spilled all of the beans. Did she finally admit that her birth name was Heidi Baumgartner?"

Leah rubbed her chin—Oh yeah, they should have asked that. But then again, Rosalie had called Leah out during the last interview. Most likely, Heidi already knew the detectives were onto her.

"No, but it honestly doesn't matter," Jacob said with a nonchalant shrug. "She explained to us her affiliation with the Volturi."

"How do we know she's not messing with us?" Paul asked. He was happy with the results of the interview but still remained cautious. Leah appreciated that; it meant he wasn't nearly as gullible as a significant number of supervisors.

"Her replies coincide with the intel we've been receiving," Leah said. "And considering that thinly-veiled threat Heidi made, it seemed that Jane knows what she's talking about."

Paul nodded, still with some doubt on his expression, but he was giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. "Is she still laying low, causing trouble as she forms a coven?"

"Forming a coven isn't a crime," Leah pointed out.

"No, it is not," Paul said as if wishing for a brief moment that it wasn't the case. But criminalizing a coven would be a slippery slope. "So, Heidi thinks you're getting all of this information from Jane? That saves our favorite undead agent's behind. Is he still messing with them?"

"It's complicated," Leah said. He's still too low on the totem pole to be considered a threat. Even if one coven mandated him to spy on another."

"He's choosing to stay on the low," Jacob added. "According to his mobster friends, he's giving us false information."

Paul scoffed, shaking his head. "That man doesn't like to live a quiet life, does he?"

"We should also let the feds know about Felix's possible involvement in James' death," Leah recommended. "He was one of the few Volturi that got caught before heading to Moldova. I don't think he'll crack, but it's another charge that can be added onto his rap sheet."

"Another murder that could be added to his list," Paul muttered, shaking his head. Leah felt him; all of these bodies dropping, all from one investigation—it was insane. "Damn it, during the past few months, we were doing _so well_ in the no-homicide department."

* * *

It wasn't until later that night, closer to midnight, as she laid across her bed, fighting with her mind to let her sleep, did Leah realize that Heidi knew about Jane. She knew about the former Volturi member's cooperation with the police. With the feds.

And if she knew, that meant that Rosalie knew.

And then, there was the Volturi.

Of course, they would know.

_Fuck_.

It was late, but Leah had convinced herself that she had no choice but to call Jacob. Surely, underneath his sleepy grumbles, he would understand.

"Should we be concerned?" Leah asked her partner in a whisper. Admittedly, it was a stupid question. Heidi was well known in these parts. She knew many people, for years, some for even centuries. "Revise—should we take action?"

She heard Jacob move around his own bed, perhaps sitting up, let out a sigh, and then a groan. She could picture Jacob running a hand down his face, questioning his decision to pick up Leah's call.

"Don't you find it interesting that the Volturi just let Jane leave?" he replied, suddenly sounding very awake. "I mean, this is the Volturi, we're talking about. They're not known for letting people walk. No matter how high in the totem pole that person is at."

Leah blinked several times to fight the urge to shut her eyes for the night. She heard her phone closer to the side of her face. "What are you insinuating?"

"Either Jane's in cahoots with them, which I highly doubt because of the whole Alec and being blamed for the raid situation. Or they don't see her as a threat."

"This is _Jane_. I've seen hardened criminals tremble at the sound of her name."

"True, but she was operating under the Volturi. Not on her own. They just see her as another Volturi henchmen."

"Should we be concerned?" Leah asked again.

"We should remain watchful. One of these days, the Volturi's gonna make a move," Jacob said, leaving no room for a challenge. Not that Leah would give him one. Besides the fact that she was finally moments from passing out, Leah fully accepted the fact that Jacob knew more about the Volturi than she ever would.

"Go to sleep," he then added, fighting a yawn. "This can wait until our shift starts."

It was more like a command, and to Leah's surprise, it worked.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

"Emily's been acting weird."

Aisha partially sat up, leaning on her elbows, looking down at her friend. A brow was raised high enough to surpass the rim of her sunglasses. "Why are we still talking about your cousin? We're trying to relax out here. After the hell we had just endured, including that whole Sonja/Heidi-mess, we deserve to _relax_. No talks about your ex-husband's baby mama."

"They're dating."

"Fact remains." Aisha let out a dramatic sigh. "_I'm_ tired of hearing about that woman."

Leah's gaze remained glued to the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful May Saturday along the shores of Lake Michigan. The sun was out with no rain was in the forecast. It was warm enough to lounge on the sand (with a blanket, of course) but not enough to get into the cold water. It was tranquil, a contrast the storm raging in her mind.

"Because there's something up and she has a baby," she said, not reacting to the completely-expected groan from Aisha though she did feel bad for her friend. "Maybe it's me caring too much, but Abel's my family too."

"And people call you cold-blooded," Aisha said, fondly shaking her head, and then, "What brought this on?"

"Just the irrationality of this situation."

"People do irrational things all the time."

"Yeah, I know, but…" Leah let out a sigh, adjusting the hands behind her head. "Look, that night when she and Maria stopped by, it was weird. Like not family drama weird, but like… I had to ask myself if she was having a breakdown."

"Well, her mother did slap the living daylights out of her and called her a whore," Aisha pointed out and grimaced. "Harsh."

"Wasn't it?" Deep inside, the petty part of Leah was still gleeful over that incident. But the rational side, the part that Leah liked to think dictated most of her decisions in life, though it might have been a step too far. "I think the name-calling hurt more."

"Especially coming from her other mother." Aisha laid back down. "What's their relationship like?"

"Maria's…" Leah's hand moved in a circular motion, trying to explain, but she couldn't form into words. "Maria."

Aisha snorted. "Not helpful," and then, "So, your aunt's an interesting lady."

Leah gave her friend a look. "You've _met_ her."

"Yeah, once. A few years back at your mom's birthday party."

"She's a perfectionist who loves drama."

"Ah." Aisha cleared her throat. "_Oh_."

Leah sighed. "Yeah…"

"So, what she did that night wasn't too surprising?"

"In retrospect, no. I think she means well, but… you know."

"Yeah." Aisha scoffed, shaking her head. "Sounds like Tiffany's mother."

"Hm." Leah glanced at Aisha. "How is Tiffany, by the way?"

"Alive. Sent her a care package last week."

"How much longer?"

"September."

"For good?"

"Hell, I hope so," Aisha said, sounding fed-up with the entire situation. "This whole long-term relationship thing with someone in the military isn't what it's cracked up to be."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "It's supposed to crack up to something?"

"You know the benefits and travel and all…"

"Yeah, but you two aren't married," Leah pointed out, and then, "Do you _want_ to get married?"

"That is probably one of the most pathetic proposals I have ever heard," Aisha declared. She took a deep breath and carried on, "I don't know… we never talked about it. I don't know."

"Bring it up when she gets back here?"

"Hah, I love your optimism. But do you know how uncomfortable that conversation is?"

"Oh, I know. I went through it," Leah replied softly, flashing back to her own marriage. Eight years, all for nothing. "Marriage isn't for everyone. Even those who _are_ married."

"Ain't that the truth," Aisha said, and then, "So, what are you going to do about Emily? I thought you were going to listen to your partner for once and keep her out of your life."

"Okay, first, I do listen to Jacob. Just not all the time and it's usually during a run—"

"Point exactly."

"_Second_," Leah stressed, rolling her eyes. Aisha got jokes. "I do not intend to be friends with Emily. I just made an observation—I'm a detective, damn it. I'm supposed to detect stuff."

"Maybe it's nothing," Aisha said, hoping that _it_ wasn't anything. She was being cautiously optimistic. "Maybe it's guilt. God knows, she should feel guilty."

Yeah, but Leah couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that.

"But why worry about it?" Aisha remarked with a shrug. "She's no longer your problem. You're no longer hers. Sam and Emily are each other's problems. If they can carry on a three-year affair, then they can handle whatever-the-hell is going on."

Leah dropped her gaze. "You think they can?"

"So what if they don't?" Aisha challenged. She let out a sigh. "Leah, darling, you need to stop worrying about people who don't give a shit about you, despite what they claim. It's not worth the effort—heck, with all the shit's going on at work, you can't afford to waste your emotions on someone who won't deserve it. It's not fair to you."

* * *

"She has a point, you know."

"I shouldn't have told you anything."

"Perhaps not, but Aisha's right."

"I know she's right."

"So, what's the problem?"

"There isn't any."

"You sure?"

"Just write your damn report, Black. It was supposed to be done this past Friday. It's now Monday morning."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"The verb: to know. An interesting verb, isn't it?" Dr. Murad asked Leah during their next session. After her client provided the most puzzled look seen yet, the therapist further clarified, "Merriam Webster defines it as having an understanding of something, being aware of the truth and factuality of something. It's not an action verb, in my opinion. I think it's a state of being. You know, or you don't, simple as that. Such an important verb, but at its essence, a weak one."

Leah blinked, and then shifted her sight from one end of the room to the other. She still had no idea where the therapist was coming from. Wondering if it was one of those mindfuck games Murad always like play on her. It was too damn late in the day to be philosophical. To think so much. She just wanted to dish out her problems and go home.

"Do you know why I believe so, Leah?" Dr. Murad asked after a moment of silence.

"Please do tell."

"Just because you know something doesn't mean you _believe_ it. Rationality is telling you that it's right, it's factual, that you accept it the way it is, but the other side of you... The one that is equally just as important can't wrap its mind around it. There's some doubt, wonder if there is another side to the story"

Leah blinked a couple of more times. "What... is this about?"

"You know your friends are right," Dr. Murad said. "About Emily, about the entire situation, but you're not truly accepting it." She cocked her head, curious eyes boring into her client. "Ever wondered why?"

The thought had honestly never come to Leah. She wasn't the philosophical one, the type to look deeply into things. In her personal life, Leah usually took things at face value; she simply didn't have time to evaluate and shit. That was what work was for; by the time her shift ended, Leah was ready to turn off her brain.

But then again, she certainly wasn't taking the Emily-situation at face value. She was still asking questions about her like Emily was the focal point of her own investigation.

In the end, Leah just shook her head.

"Let me ask you another question: do you think Emily's hold on you has less to do with her and more to do with the fact that she has something you've craved for?"

Leah drew in a breath; that question had come way from the left friend. She exhaled, looking at everywhere but the patient woman sitting several feet from her and then back up, determined and almost to the point of being pissed off. "I'm not _jealous_ of her."

The thought was absolutely inconceivable.

"No, but you can be jealous over the fact that she had Sam's child," Murad explained. "Something you have asked for time and time again from your ex, only to be told no. Only to be told empty promises…"

Leah's face twisted into an angry, offended grimace. The audacity. The _gall_. "Fuck you."

"It appears I hit a nerve," Dr. Murad said, completely unaffected by Leah's retort. She placed her notepad aside and folded her hands on her lap. "Answer me this, Leah, if it wasn't for Abel, would you have still stuck around? Would you still have Emily, the recent mother, on your mind? Always worrying about—"

"What if there is?"

"Not to… but why do you care?"

Because it was her nature, something only a few knew about. Her allegedly cold exterior was a blessing and a curse. Perhaps she cared not because she wanted what was best for her cousin, but because she was a damn detective. She loved finding the answer to questions, to get to the bottom of cases and dilemmas.

But it took Leah some time to realize that her nature hadn't been what the therapist was referring to. It was solely about Emily—Leah frowned, crossing her arms tightly. "You don't believe in forgiveness?" she asked.

She didn't really know why.

"Of course, I do, but I don't think you do. At least, for this instance," Dr. Murad said. "I believe you've reached that point with Sam, but with Emily, you are disguising your resentment with concern."

* * *

"Do you still even want kids?"

"I don't know…" Leah replied quietly, playing around with her chicken Caesar salad. She looked up to see Aisha watching her expectantly, waiting for a legitimate answer. Leah tried again. "I mean… I don't know." She shrugged. "I don't know if I want to be bothered with it. It's a lot of work, and then there is the whole wolf-thing." She stabbed a piece of meat. "It may not be worth the hassle."

Aisha gave a small smile before taking a sip of her Sprite. "Well, you're young."

Leah snorted. "I'm not twenty-five."

"You're not seventy," Aisha argued. "Mid-thirties is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Hey, wasn't there a story about a sixty-something-year-old being pregnant?"

"I'm not going to be that person. _Sixty-something_? Damn, I'll be retired by then."

"God bless them,"

Leah nodded. That woman was going to need all the blessings she could get. Sixty-something, with a newborn? She couldn't imagine.

And she didn't imagine she would have a conversation about this. The whole-having-children thing, Leah had been convinced she was over it. That she had accepted it and moved on. But then Dr. Murad had mentioned it last week, telling Leah that it was blatantly clear that she hadn't moved on a damn inch. She was still bitter about it, about Sam telling her that they should wait, about Sam telling her more cons about having children than pros. The fact that Emily had an opportunity that Leah couldn't—

It was irrational being jealous of Emily, being jealous of Abel. So irrational that Leah didn't even think it was possible. Perhaps Murad was right, all of this whatever had less to do with Emily more to do with regret, all that constant thoughts about what could have been.

"Oh, here _you_ go, overthinking _again_," Aisha said, snapping Leah out her thoughts. "C'mon, girl, we're having lunch. Lunch is supposed to be enjoyable."

"You're the one who asked the damn question," Leah retorted.

"Yeah, that's my fault," Aisha admitted, and then, "So, you're done with her?"

"It's for the best. I got enough shit to deal with at work. I don't need the drama." Leah took a bite of her meal. Damn, she wanted a burger right now. "I guess it's hard to say goodbye?"

"I know it's not easier cutting people out of your life. I get it," Aisha said. "When I came out to my family, there were some people I just _knew_ wouldn't let me be. I mean, not everyone _had_ to agree with me getting a girlfriend, but girl, hearing about how I need to be saved, how I am a sinner, and all that other BS got old after a while—it sucked, but it had to be done."

Leah nodded. "It has to be done."

* * *

"The full moon's tomorrow night," Leah announced to her partner as she reviewed her desk calendar. Goodness, she couldn't believe it was already June; it seemed like it had just been yesterday, traveling out west, having a great time in Vegas, and the Grand Canyon. "First moon on a Saturday in quite a while."

Jacob looked up from his mounds of paperwork, rubbing his chin. "Oh, right."

Leah eyed Jacob. "Did you forget?"

Jacob snorted. "Don't insult me, Clearwater."

Leah gave her partner a knowing look, and then, "Pick me up at eleven?"

Jacob let out a dramatic sigh. "When are _you_ going to pick _me_ up? Contrary to what the rest of the guys want to believe, I'm not your damn chauffeur."

"No, but you're my alpha," Leah stressed. "You're _supposed_ to look out for your people. After all, this," She pointed at herself. "Is all your fault. Take some responsibility."

"My fault?" Jacob scoffed. "I'm sorry, but _who_ decided to channel Rambo that night?"

Leah rolled her eyes. She hadn't tried to channel _Rambo_, thank you. There had been no guns blazing, rounds of ammunition wrapped around her torso. And she damn sure hadn't been running in a Southeast Asian jungle.

"Jungles, underground abandoned tunnels," Jacob waved dismissively. "All the same..."

"Oh, screw you."

Jacob clutched his chest. "I will _forever_ appreciate your kind words."

Leah gave her partner the finger and then changed her tune into sincerity, "Thank you for that, by the way."

"How many times you gotta say that? It was nothing really."

Probably until the end of time. The man had saved her life, for heaven's sake, and she knew how much he appreciated hearing those words.

"Just like you picking me up tonight?'

Jacob laughed. "Buy me lunch, and I'll think about it."

"I was going to buy it for you, anyway. Remember that damn bet I lost?"

"Oh yeah," Jacob snapped his fingers, smirking. "Told you the Cubs were going to win. I know my baseball."

Leah snorted. "Since when?"

"Since you dragged me to that game last year."

Leah rolled her eyes and moved her hands in a circle, completely downplaying Jacob's new interest in the sport. "Oh, okay."

"You're just mad because I know more baseball than you."

Leah narrowed her eyes and tossed a large paperclip at Jacob, hitting in on the arm.

"Oh, now we're back to throwing things?" Jacob laughed. "I thought you left that nasty habit in Sin City?"

"I don't like you," Leah bit out but without much heat. At the corner of her eye, she noticed Embry watching them with a shit-eating grin. She turned her in his direction, narrowing her eyes, silently threatening him to knock it off. Not that it had much effect on the younger cop who just laughed.

"What was that about?"

Leah rolled her eyes. "Embry being annoying."

Jacob blinked and turned around. Embry was already gone. "From over there?"

"Oh, come _on_. You of all people should know how he is," Leah said, and then, "So, eleven tonight?"

She was determined to phase again tonight. Not like last month—she hadn't thought it was possible to skip a full moon transformation, but it happened in May.

Jacob nodded. "Eleven tonight."

* * *

She remembered the transformation this time.

Leah remembered the full moon, the pain, the awkwardness of her body morphing, quickly but not enough to notice. She could call the sound of her bones re-shaping, her muscles stretching. Her heart beating at a rate never experienced—

But not much after that.

"At least you didn't pass out this time," Jacob told Leah the following morning. They were at his place, having breakfast before going their separate ways. Thankfully, it was a Sunday, not a Monday. "That, my friend, is what I call progress."

Leah snorted before downing her coffee. Goodness, she was starving and absolutely grateful that her partner had done some food shopping on Friday after work. "I barely remembered anything after getting on all fours."

"But you didn't blackout."

Leah fetched a handful of turkey bacon. "Small victories," she mumbled before taking a bite. "So, what did I do last night? Was I finally able to hold the shift for more than ten minutes?"

"Actually, last time was closer to a half an hour," Jacob corrected, cheeky. "You devoured some deer." He chuckled at Leah's grimace. He waved it off. "You were perfectly fine with it. Almost got into a spat with Jared over a piece."

Leah took a bite of an apple, embarrassed. For her behavior, and for the fact that the wolf—no, _she_— had apparently _enjoyed_ bloodied slabs of venison. "You're joking."

"When we shift into wolves, Leah, we become practically carnivores." Jacob shrugged, and that damn infuriating grin wouldn't drop from his face. "Meat is meat."

"Nice to know."

Jacob's grin turned fond. "You also kicked Paul's ass in a race."

Leah nearly choked on her food, pounding her chest before clearing her throat and washing it down with coffee. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, let's try not to remind him about that tomorrow. I don't need you playing traffic cop for the day because you gave him some shit."

Leah blinked. "Damn, was it that bad?"

"Paul has pride, which you bruised," Jacob explained, but he wasn't concerned about any repercussions from Paul. The captain was usually a good sport around people he liked. "You're fast. Really fast."

Leah traditionally wasn't a gloater, but she couldn't help but grin in triumph. "We should race. You and me."

"Now, that wouldn't be too fair. I'm not a speedster," Jacob confessed, though not ashamed. "I make up for it in other ways."

"Ah, really?" Leah shoved more bacon into her mouth. "And how?"

"You'll see when you stop getting post-phasing amnesia."

Leah gave her chuckling partner the finger. "Oh, fuck you," she snapped through without any anger beyond it. She would blame her lack of annoyance on the omelet she was about to devour. And the turkey bacon. Goodness, she loved turkey bacon. After cutting a slice, Leah looked up at her partner, eyes shining with pride. "So, I'm fast, huh?"

"Damn, I should've never told you that," Jacob said, shaking his head, but his amusement and fondness were undeniable. "You're never gonna live that down, will ya?"

"Hell no."

* * *

"Six o'clock in the damn morning, Jacob," Leah grumbled, trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She was only somewhat successful. "Why are we working _at six o'clock in the damn mornin_g?"

Jacob let out a light chuckle as he sped down Lake Shore Drive. For once, traffic was light; one wouldn't even think it was a Monday morning shortly before the morning-rush began. "Don't you want to earn some OT?"

"What, for one and a half hours?" Leah snorted, sitting up in her seat, resisting the urge to adjust her chair back so she could close her eyes until Jacob reached the South Side. "Answer the question, Black."

"Early morning is easier. Early morning means it's too early for the action to begin."

"What action?" Then Leah groaned. "Oh, don't tell me we're meeting one of your friends again."

Jacob flashed Leah a lopsided grin. "I wouldn't exactly call him a _friend_, but we go way back."

Oh, Leah knew what that meant—she could kiss her dream of attempting to convince Jacob to let her pass out in the backseat seat of the car while he had a conversation with a "friend" goodbye.

It was for the best, she told herself. Technically, she shouldn't be sleeping while on the clock anyway.

Oh, this better be worth it.

Leah asked, giving Jacob a dirty look. It wasn't fair. "Before we meet your friend, I need a triple-shot espresso."

"Oh, come on, you're acting like it's four in the morning. I picked you up a half an hour to go."

Leah rolled her eyes. "You know I can't sleep well."

Jacob glanced at his partner, concerned. "I thought it was getting better?"

Leah shrugged.

"You need to check that out."

"Yeah, I will."

"Are you really?"

"Screw you, Black," Leah retorted. "I am."

"Cause that's not a good look." Jacob shook his head and sighed. "I promise this morning won't happen again unless Paul demands it so."

"Thank you."

* * *

The man Jacob wouldn't refer to as a "friend" was named Sean. Technically, he was employed under the table as a sanitation worker and bouncer for an underground (supernatural) club off of Fullerton. Unofficially, he was a shape-shifting, small-time gambler, serving as a Fang associate to fulfill his debt. He couldn't be more than thirty, thirty-five, but he looked like he lived a long, hard life.

"I saw you visiting the old man sometime back," Sean remarked as the detectives joined him at the table of his favorite bar. Given the early hour, the place was practically empty save for the bartender who wisely kept his head down.

Jacob let out a light chuckle, disregarding the man's glare. "Did you?"

"Haven't seen you around these parts in years, and then suddenly you're there." Sean gestured the bar area and shrugged. "Something gotta be up."

Off the bat, Leah knew Sean wasn't too thrilled to be in Jacob's presence, but he knew the man. He wasn't as suspicious of him as he was with Leah. In regards to her, he was silently hostile, didn't want to have anything to do with her, not even when she had shown him her badge.

Not that Leah really gave a damn.

Jacob moved around his seat until he found the right spot, arm behind him, draped around the back of the chair. He was relaxed because Sean didn't phase him. "How's life, Sean? Anything new?"

"I got a kid," Sean responded carefully.

Jacob raised an eyebrow, but his expression was flat. "Do you?"

"Yeah, a girl." Sean pulled out a photo from his shirt pocket and held it up. "Name's Mariah."

"She's adorable," Leah remarked.

Sean brushed off Leah's comment and carried on, "I ain't with her mom, but I gotta look out for my kid, right?"

"As you should," Jacob said.

Leah looked between the two men—they both knew that was going on, why the detectives were here, why Jacob was asking about the welfare of a man he wasn't too fond of. Sean snorted, took a swig of his beer, laced with wolfbane. "Got some money to lend an old friend?"

Yeah, Jacob did. That was why he had pestered Paul all morning about getting some "bribe money".

"We were never friends," Jacob insisted vehemently but still pulled out a fifty-dollar bill.

Sean eyed the money. "Oh," he said with a snort. "Is that how we're doing it?"

Jacob shrugged, completely nonchalant. "You know how it is." He leaned in. "How's the garbage business?"

"It's fine," Sean said, eyes still on the prize. "Been good the past couple of years. The reason why I ain't running on the streets anymore. It ain't enough, but it's better than before." He held out a hand. "The fifty?"

Sean crossed his arms. "What the fuck you wanna know, man?"

Leah handed Jacob a photo-copy of Gianna's profile. Jacob held it up in Sean's face. "Seen her before?"

Sean took one look and snorted, playing off cool. "Yeah, on the news."

"That's all?"

"Yeah," Sean maintained. He loosened and then recrossed his arms. His gaze averted and then returned to the photo. He was tense, defensive. _Bingo_, Leah thought, smirking. They got him.

"Oh c'mon, Sean, look _real_ hard," Jacob ordered, holding the photo closer to the man. "Recognize her?" he asked, and then smirked at the man's low sound of affirmation. "Ah, you do."

Sean cleared his throat and declared, "I ain't done—"

"You're not a suspect," Leah maintained, not once flinching at the mean look Sean had sent her way. "We just want to get some info. It's not that difficult."

Jacob let out a snort, but Sean wasn't too pleased about Leah's comment. His eyes narrowed, shoulders squared, chest puffed out. His fangs were visible under his snarl, nostrils flaring. Leah wasn't worried about him because Jacob wasn't. But Sean was ready to roll, ready to make a scene, "And who the fuck—" He inhaled, and then stopped. He looked between the two detectives, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and fear. "_Oh_." He blinked, demeanor dropping altogether, almost to the point of cowering. He slid his chair back, putting up both hands, regretful, apologetic eyes solely on Leah. "Didn't know it was like that…"

Leah didn't hide her own bewilderment. _The fuck_? One second, Sean was about to prove how much of gangster he was, and the next, he was cowering. "Like what?"

She glanced at her partner. Jacob didn't share it like he usually did; his attention was on Sean, and it wasn't a pleasant one. Maybe that was what had caught Sean so off guard. The last time Leah had seen such much—she didn't know how to explain it—in his eyes, he had been five seconds away from phasing thanks her admission about meeting the feared Jane for the first time. Without any backup.

But like Sean's tough-guy act, Jacob's demeanor returned to the sometimes-bad cop vibe he had going for him. "Just answer the damn question, Sean, or you ain't getting shit from me."

It was like nothing had happened.

"I've seen her before, happy?"

"Circumstances?" Leah asked. "And please don't lie."

Sean remained quiet.

"How was the business last January?" Jacob asked. "Mid-January? I heard you and your boys were getting a lot of requests from our favorite species."

Sean looked between Jacob and the money in his hand. "Fifty's all you got?"

"Depends on what you got for us."

"Look, we don't get involved in their drama. We just pick up the pieces for a fee. That's all," Sean insisted. "I don't know what that lady did, but she fucked up. Usually, when we get a request, we get some chemicals and toss the leftovers in the fire—"

"At Maxwell's."

_Maxwell's_, Goodness, Leah hadn't heard of that Cicero-based, mob-linked crematorium in years. Up until seconds ago, she had been under the assumption that the business had closed up shop after the latest debacle featuring the Health Department and numerous civil cases. Still going strong, it seemed.

"Yeah, but they didn't want that. They wanted us to dump her at the landfill. A dumbass idea, in my opinion, but I didn't make the rules. That's why I think she fucked up bad. They knew someone would find her."

"Who's they?"

First choice: The Volturi, but it was also the most obvious. Second: possibly the Cullen's, but at this moment, she couldn't find a motive for them. No, scratch that, she could. Leah—she didn't know— her gut told her it was the Volturi.

"Fuck, Jacob, you want me to get killed? "Sean practically shrieked. "I got a daughter."

But the man's dramatics didn't work on the detectives. "Where did you and your friends pick her up?" Jacob asked in a calm voice.

"At the back of the hotel, where all the garbage is. It was just there, marked with an X like the directions said."

Leah was surprised Sean was willing to spill so many beans for so little reward. But she had a feeling that he might be a tad afraid of the larger man and that he was extremely strapped for cash. Jacob must have known about that before.

"How did you get paid?"

"Unmarked bills, man," Sean said, throwing up his hands as if he was offended that Jacob would suggest anything else. "C'mon, we ain't dumb."

"Just hoping for a moment that you were," Jacob said, handing Justin another fifty, as promised.

"Hey, I give you more if you have another, let's say, another fifty," Sean offered. "Word on the street is that the leeches are cleaning house. Got spooked by the feds. Gotta have something to do with that cartel lady getting shipped off to Mexico. If you're a newborn or a human, you're fucked."

Leah did recall Ben mentioning something about a purge. "Yeah, we know."

"You do? Well, damn."

"Better luck next time, Sean," Jacob said, slapping the table before rising from his seat along with Leah. "Try to stay outta trouble, okay? It'll be a damn shame if I gotta arrest an old friend."

* * *

Sean's comment from earlier… it was such a trivial comment, compared to everything else he had said, but it still nagged Leah. What the hell did he mean by that? Why did his demeanor shift so quickly? She frowned, putting her seat belt, waiting for Jacob to drive off. "Like what?"

Jacob turned on the car and glanced at his partner, understandably confused, "Huh?"

"Sean," Leah said, quiet. "He said that he didn't know it was like _that_."

"I don't know." Jacob shrugged and gripping the steering wheel, moved the car out of its parking space. "It's probably nothing."

Jacob could be right. Unlike Jacob, for the most part, Leah tended to look further into things beyond a level that was necessary. She was convinced she was onto something because of Sean's reaction? That was odd.

"I find it interesting that he was all into his tough-guy act, and then—" Leah snapped her fingers. "He apologized. Backed off, what was that about?"

Jacob stopped at the red light. "He was the same way with me," he said.

He wasn't getting it.

Or maybe, he was but didn't want to admit it.

She couldn't figure out which one was the truth. Or if she wanted to know. Jacob was being dodgy. Uncharacteristic for a man who traditionally told her many things, no matter the level of discomfort. A blessing and a curse in Leah's opinion—she narrowed her eyes, drawing her partner in. Her sharp gazes generally had that effect. "Jacob, don't fuck with me," she warned.

The warning was more of a plea than a threat. Jacob was quickly closing up on her, jeopardizing, even only temporarily, that open line of communication that Leah valued so damn much. It was something she hadn't experienced much with Sam, even during the happier times.

Leah honestly didn't know what she wanted from her partner or why Sean's words bothered her so much. It was just a stupid comment made by a man who had to be paid off to cooperate. It was probably bullshit, something to rile her up. Keep her interested—it could be something trivial. But Leah had a sinking, nagging feeling that it wasn't.

"There's nothing to fuck with," Jacob insisted. There was some defensiveness in his voice, minute but enough to be noticeable. "It's just Sean being Sean," and then, finally looking her way. "Why does it bother you?"

"Because it seems to me that he knows something that I don't."

Jacob snorted. "And you think I do?"

_Yes_.

Leah raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "I don't know. Do you?"

Jacob cleared his throat, averting his gaze. "No."

She hated when he lied.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

"We need to talk."

It was simple. No pretext, no smooth transition. One moment, the detectives were returning from witness questioning and the next, Leah cornered Jacob into the back of an alleyway. It was dark. The area was abandoned except for the occasional car passing by and the cat subduing a mouse near the dumpster.

Leah had him trapped.

Metaphorically.

Physically, he could have pushed past her, she thought as she stared the man down. She might be fast, but Jacob could overpower her, but he just stayed there, back against the stone, seemingly more interested in the ground than the woman in front of him.

Jacob was devising up excuses to stall the conversation. She could see it in his widened eyes when he looked up, could practically _hear_ in his mind. There was an uptick in his heart rate, shortness in his breath. But she wasn't going to let this go, she wasn't going to let him go—and he realized that after some time past, running a hand across his forehead, letting out a deep breath, defeated.

Perhaps it wasn't the best location and time for such a heavy conversation, but Leah liked to believe that she knew Jacob just as well as he knew her. This time, right at 8:30 pm, was better than any. Just get it out of the way and deal with the fallout some other time. There were too many things going on in their lives to stall it any longer—especially if it turned out that Sean was speaking out of his ass. That it had been nothing but a joke.

But in the back of Leah's mind, she knew it was utter bullshit. Jacob wouldn't be behaving in this manner if it was nothing but a flippant comment.

The partners just stood there in absolute uncomfortable silence. Leah watched Jacob, hoping and waiting for him to say something— the man wasn't dumb. He knew why Leah had cornered him—but it was soon apparent that she would have to spearhead the conversation. It wasn't ideal, but it was fine. She was the one with the questions.

"Are you going to make believe that yesterday didn't happen?" the question came with a bite, causing Jacob to flinch, but Leah wouldn't back down. It wouldn't do either of them any good. "Or are you finally going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Leah—"

Leah pinched her nose, eyes closed, already sensing the incoming excuses. She opened them. "You _lied_ to me, Jacob."

Jacob winced. "Leah—"

"Don't Leah me," She took a step forward, arms crossed, eyes boring into her partner. "What the hell happened?"

Jacob's jaw clenched. He wanted to stall even more but decided to relent. It wasn't worth it, and despite all of the frustration she had for the man, Leah appreciated that. It was time to get the show on the road. Not that Jacob was quick with his response. He still refused to make eye contact with Leah as he rubbed his hands together, presumably trying to find the right words.

Eventually, he blew out his cheeks, cursed under his breath, shook his head, and, "I fucked up, alright?" He finally looked up at her; terror overtook his face. He wanted to be anywhere but inside the alley with Leah only a couple of feet away. "I fucked up _bad_."

Leah blinked. She wasn't expecting _that_. Nowhere near that. "Fucked up... how?"

"Sean, and—"

Leah cut him off, putting her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. "Wait, you told _me_ it was nothing. That you didn't know what Sean was talking about, now you're mentioning _him_?"

Jacob let out a harsh breath. "I lied."

At least, he admitted it. Leah shook her head, muttering a curse under her breath. "You lied," she bit out. "About what?"

"He sensed it," Jacob said, fear crossing his face. "You and I… we have…" He threw up his hands, giving up fighting. "It's a bond between us, between our wolves."

"A bond?" Leah slowly repeated, eyes widening as she checked out her surroundings. "A bond?" She froze before her mouth fell open. "Like _mates_?"

"Yes. No." Jacob's jaw tightened as he pulled at his short hair. "_Fuck_, I dunno."

Yeah, that wasn't the answer Leah needed at this moment. But now, she did know that he hadn't wanted the bond (or whatnot) ever to happen. She didn't know enough to blame him.

"How did—"

"I don't know."

Leah brought a hand to her mouth and gasped. She searched his eyes. He was telling the truth. About everything. _Goddamnit_. They were now just two people propelled into a situation neither were one hundred percent sure about. Neither had expected.

It was all fucked up.

She swallowed. "I mean, can we stop—"

Jacob pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"So, there's nothing we can do?"

Jacob shut his eyes and then opened them. "No… it just happens."

Leah looked down. "Oh."

_Fuck_.

To be honest, she didn't want to break the bond, mating, whatever—it sounded like it would be complicated and painful, and goodness, she didn't want to experience that. Jacob was important to her, and that was what.

Leah took a step back, holding out her hands. "I think I need time to digest this."

"I understand," Jacob quietly replied, shoulders sagging. He hadn't wanted to say a damn word, that had been more than apparent. "Hey, don't worry about it. It'll—Don't worry about it."

Leah gave a bitter laugh. Even Jacob didn't believe his words. "You can't say shit like that and expect me to brush it off."

"Leah…"

Leah honestly didn't have words to explain... how she was feeling. Perhaps, she was experiencing shock. Not only in her part, but also in Jacob's. Except Jacob was different because sure, Leah didn't truly comprehend what the "bond" meant, but Jacob did. He might not know the entire severity of the term, but he knew something _far_ more than she did. And it scared her.

"Come on," she ended up saying, pointed at their car across the street, emotionally exhausted. "We need to get back to the station before Paul thinks we got held up or something."

Jacob threaded a hand through his hair and gave a curt nod. "Yeah."

* * *

"Beer with wolfbane," Leah called out to bartender a couple of hours after leaving the station. She had no intention of staying at the busy bar for long. After all, it was a weekday, and she had professional responsibilities until the weekend. But she needed a goddamn drink.

Or three

No, one.

One should be enough.

Should be sufficient.

The bar owner took one look at the detective as he helped the other bartenders clean some glasses and raised both eyebrows. He ordered an employee to fetch him a beer (and fast) before reaching Leah. "Tough day?"

"You can say that," Leah mumbled, tossing her suit jacket on the stool next to her and rolling up her sleeves. She waved for some regulars she caught sight of through the mirror behind the rows of bottles. "Hey, I got a question."

Quil thanked the bartender for the beer, cracked it open, and handed it to Leah. "Shoot."

"Never mind," Leah muttered. She quickly downed some of the drink, savoring the burn of the wolfbane and slammed the bottle on the table. She pulled out a couple of bills and handed it over, groaning as Quil slid it back to her. "I thought we were done with the free drinks?"

"We were until a few minutes ago," Quil said, looking at her, concerned. "With all due respect, you look like shit." Before Leah could offer a retort, he asked, "Where's your partner in crime?"

Leah shrugged. "Home, I guess?"

"Oh," was Quil's quiet replay before he slapped a dishtowel on his shoulder and took some orders before returning to Leah. He studied her for a bit and then let a tired sigh. "What happened now?"

Leah took another swig of her beer. "What do you mean?"

"Did you two go at it again?" Quil carefully asked, weirdly reminding Leah of her mother. "Is it about the case?" Quil asked carefully, weirdly reminding Leah of her mother. "Oh, _fuck_, you found out."

Leah narrowed her eyes because _no_ _way_. "Found out about what?"

Quil held up a finger before assisting his bartenders with some orders. Happy Hour might be winding down, but there was a new rush of patrons. "You know what's funny about our fearless leader," he remarked, placing money into the cash register. "You'd think with him being born with it and all that he would know what's going on all the time, but he doesn't."

Leah moved to the side a bit to make room for some eager patrons. None of them were rude, so she didn't have a reason to voice her opinion. Anyway, her focus was more on Quil's comments. "He's not omniscient."

"No, but I expected more," Quil said before calling out with a glass in his hand, "Gin and Tonic with WB!"

Leah turned around to size up the customer. Oh, he was a wolf, alright. There were many of them here, she realized. Was it Shapeshifter Night or something? She took another drink. "What are you talking about?"

Quil squeezed past his employees, finally getting some space, and slammed both hands on the bar. He stared at Leah through an indiscernible gaze and shook his head, muttering to himself.

"What?" Leah demanded.

"I don't get it," Quil replied honestly. "You're both detectives. Your jobs are to look for stuff, pick up on things the laymen can't. Abnormalities, changes, and all that jazz, but you two? Not a damn thing." He shrugged. "Or maybe you do, did, and decided to push it aside…"

"Quil, what the fuck are you talking about?" Leah demanded, and then, the realized down on her. She brought a hand to her mouth, she gasped. "You _knew_?"

"I wouldn't say _that_," Quil insisted. "But I had my suspicions…" He trailed off, rubbing his chin. He snapped his fingers. "Oh, _that's_ why he's being acting weird."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." Leah spat. "_How_ did I not know this?"

"In his defense, he probably didn't either."

Judging from their less than stellar conversation from earlier, it was apparent Jacob didn't. "But isn't he an alpha?" Leah argued. "Isn't he supposed to know these things?"

Quil sighed before cracking open a beer and handing it to a patron standing next to Leah. The handsome man looked down at her, giving her a toothy grin, was about to make a move, most likely, until Leah growled him away. This _wasn't_ the time.

Leah raised a high eyebrow. "_Well_?"

"It's complicated."

"It's complicated," Leah echoed, bringing the tip of the beer bottle to her lips. The beer was decent, but it wasn't what she needed right now. What she needed was the wolfbane-version of Tequila.

"You know what it's like, and please do not take it the wrong way or psychoanalyze it because I promise it's not what I mean." Quil paused, and then, "It's like falling in love."

Leah sputtered, pounding her chest as she felt the beer enter the wrong hole. After taking a series of breaths under the bar owner's watchful eyes, she choked out, "_Excuse me_?"

"Hear me out: we've heard about it, right? People are always talking about it, singing about it. We see all the time on TV or in movies, but what the hell is _it_? No one can describe it. You just _know_."

Leah sighed, dropping her head. "I didn't know…"

"Talk to the man."

Leah snorted. "Don't you think I've tried?"

"Did you try hard enough?" Quil questioned. Despite tending to other patrons, he was still watching his packmate's every move.

Leah's expression hardened. "That's not my responsibility—_Fuck_."

Quil cleared his throat. "Not to sound callous or anything, but it's not the end of the world," he said, ignoring Leah's glare. "You guys were working perfectly fine before. Nothing has to change. Just talk it out."

* * *

For the next few days, Leah and Jacob didn't talk about it.

They talked about other things: the case, Jared's rather interesting declaration that he now wanted to be a part of the packing (_perfect_ timing) and other trivial topics.

This wasn't sustainable.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," Aisha said one night over a round of much-needed drinks and cupcakes. "You two didn't realize that you two were... _you two_... until someone who you were questioning about Gianna _just happened to_ _point it out_?"

Leah shoved half of a cupcake into her mouth and moaned at the sweet taste. She washed the dessert down with some wine. Perhaps, not the best combination, but she couldn't care less at the moment. "Yeah, pretty much," she eventually said.

Aisha let out a snort before downing some of her wine, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, "You know for someone who claims not to like drama, you always find yourself in the middle of one."

"I didn't ask for this," Leah grumbled before finishing the rest of the cupcake and reaching for another one.

"Only this shit happens to you, Leah."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "You're not helping."

"So, are you two like, _you know_?"

"No, goodness, no."

"You two are mates."

"We're not..." Leah let out a resigned sigh, not explaining knowing how to explain the situation. She ended up giving it a try, "It's complicated."

"Are you or are you not?"

Aisha was looking at Leah, waiting on Leah as if her friend was a witness or perp participating in an interrogation. Leah had been convinced that since she was friends with the other detective that she wouldn't be affected by the stare. Sadly, Leah realized as her resolve slowly broke down, it was the case.

"It's complicated," Leah ended up saying.

Again.

Her answer was not the best, as evident by Aisha's grumble as she threw up her arms. "Jesus, Leah, can you _stop_ saying that?"

"It's true, goddamn it!"

Aisha shook her head. "My goodness…"

"And don't say 'mates'. It makes us seem something we're not."

"But isn't that what you _are_?"

"We're _not_ mates, Aisha."

Aisha put up both hands, and then, "So, what, do you two have a profound bond or something?"

Leah scrunched up her face. "A what?"

"Have you not watched Supernatural?" Aisha asked, scandalized. When Leah shook her head, Aisha gasped, dramatically holding a hand to her chest. "Oh, you'd _love_ it. It's kinda long with a bunch of fillers, but it has everything: hunters, vengeance, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, demons, and angels. Seriously, angels. Family drama. _Friend_ drama."

"I'll check it out when my life isn't a shit show."

"You two need to talk."

"We have."

"No, like really _talk_. Don't think I don't know how you two operate: both of you can be annoyingly stubborn, annoying good at keeping things all bottled up to keep the peace, and then get surprised when shit hits the fan."

Leah picked up her bottle of wine and stared at it. "Don't you think he should be the one coming to me?"

"Of course, I do," Aisha said with earnest. "And I think he will see the light. But when he does, make sure you get the whole story and _then_ explain it to me so _I_ can finally get some clarification."

* * *

"Do you believe in this whole soulmate-BS?"

Dr. Murad hadn't expected such a question one minute into the session (to be honest, Leah hadn't either. The words just came out of her mouth with no prior consideration, at all). The therapist didn't reply immediately, taking her time studying her client to pick up on her client cues.

Leah was sitting across from her, in her usual spot, arms crossed and stiff. She didn't want to come here, at all. But she had paid for a bulk package, and she knew she would regret her decision the moment she hopped back on the train home.

"Why do you call it BS?"

Leah snorted. She finally locked eyes with the other woman, annoyed. "I was asking _you_ the question."

"Well, to answer your question to your satisfaction, I need to understand why you don't give the concept of soulmates much credence?"

"I don't know—" Leah dropped her arms. "It just is."

Dr. Murad sighed. "That doesn't help me."

"There's no logic to it," Leah explained, flashing back all of those times with Sam. Goodness, she had thought he could be, was, her soulmate. He had been everything she thought he had needed. They were supposed to be together. Forever, all to fall apart because of that mid-December night—She swallowed down her anger and then shrugged, "I mean, it just happens?"

"I'm sure it doesn't just happen," Murad said. "You're not born with a random mark stating who your soulmate is, and you have to live your life finding that one person..."

"So, you don't believe in fate."

"As a matter of fact, I do, but fate doesn't happen in a vacuum. You don't wake up one day and suddenly find a soulmate. I don't believe it works that way... and I don't think it always has to have a romantic connotation."

"I didn't say anything about—"

"You didn't have to."

Leah frowned. It was like the therapist could read her like a wide-open book. It was quite unnerving. "Are you some clairvoyant or something?"

"No, I'm simply someone who's been in my field for a very long time," Murad replied, confident but no one near arrogant. She was damn good at her job; if she hadn't, Leah would've dipped months ago. "My profession is similar to yours, believe it or not. We both study people and evidence to reach a conclusion."

"And what is mine?"

"You're a brilliant woman, Leah. I'm not saying this because you're paying me to help you. It's true…"

"I think you're scared," Murad concluded, honest, looking at Leah not as her client, but perhaps something closer to a concerned friend. "Of being hurt again."

Leah snorted. "I'm sure many people do."

"Honestly, I believe _all_ people do. Even those who claim to be in-tuned of their emotions, not to have emotions…"

Leah rubbed her temples, not appreciating loosely-veiled Murad's implication. "I never said I don't—"

"I didn't say you did," Murad maintained, and then before Leah could think of a snarky response, "Why did you ask me for my opinion on soulmates?"

"I think it's BS."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then why ask me?" Murad challenged. "Why do you need my opinion if you're so insistent that it's BS?"

Leah could give Murad an answer, an honest one. But she would have to reveal a secret she hadn't told most outside of her usual circle.

But she was a therapist, right? She was here to her Leah out, right? There should be no judgment, no outright horror... Leah's eyes roamed around the roam as she weighed her options before landing on Murad was who waiting patiently for a response. She sighed, shoulders slumped, deciding to throw caution to the wind. "You're not allowed to talk to other people about what is said in here, right?"

"Of course," Murad replied, adjusting in her seat, resting her chin on her palm. Her sharp eyes zoned solely on Leah. Oh, she was very interested, Leah realizing; she was starting to pick up on the therapist's tells. Murad sat up, dropping her arm. "It's the law, not only in the books but in my profession. Nothing gets accomplished if there's no trust."

"I died back in September. Technically," Leah blurted out before she could start questioning her life decision. She didn't look at the therapist; she honestly couldn't or else she would lose her nerve. Not that she could go back now. "I was told by a doctor that everything had shut down for a couple of minutes before my heart started beating again."

"From the gunshot wounds?"

"Yes." Leah dropped her gaze. "_No_. I was told that someone…" She drew in a sharp breath. "Jacob. He was the real cause of my temporary death. Not that gunshots, his bite because of the shots, and..."

"Well, judging from how warm you feel when we shake hands," Murad remarked when it was evident that Leah couldn't form the right words to finish her statement. "I assume you're not a vampire."

Leah blinked a few times and let out a nervous chuckle—Murad's nonchalance threw her off. There was no blatant surprise (the therapist's eyes did widen by a fraction), positive or negative. No invasive questions. No therapist rushing out of the room to call the police or the press or worse... heck, Leah didn't know, The supernatural version of the _Men of Black_.

She was expecting more questions from Murad, but all she received as the other woman's patent patient gaze. She cleared her throat and further clarified, "I can turn into a wolf."

"I see," Murad said, nodding with understanding. She placed aside her notepad on the small table next to her, crossed her legs, and folded her hands on the knee. "I assure you, you're not my first."

The comment hit Leah like a ton of bricks. Or a piano. Clichés, _she_ _knew_, but she wasn't in the right state of mind to think of anything creative. She thought she had put up a good front, acting like wasn't unnerved by Murad's reaction. But she hadn't, and the other woman quickly picked up on it. The conversation was emotionally unsettling, but in a way, liberating? She didn't have to hide anymore. She didn't have to make up excuses or examples because she was afraid that one of the few people who truly understood her just wouldn't _understand_.

She loudly cleared her throat. "Oh."

"I honestly believe a lot more people know about the supernatural than we think, but no one wants to talk about it," Murad said, smooth, as if she hadn't just received such a revelation. Her voice calmed Leah. "For obvious reasons."

"Oh."

"So, this soulmate thing, I assume you're referring to Jacob."

Leah jolted upright, breaking out of her trance. She wanted, no, _needed_ to make it clear that, "We're _not_ soul—"

Murad put up a hand. "I know." She cocked her head, eyeing Leah, and then nodded as if receiving a revelation. "You're freaking out."

"In my defense, so did he," Leah pointed out. "So _is_ he."

"The revelation was abrupt," Murad concluded.

"Someone else called him, us, out on it," Leah said, frowning at the admittedly uncomfortable memory. "Someone we were questioning. I guess he didn't like the questions I had asked him, so he wanted to do something about it—" She paused to gather her words. "And I don't know what Jacob did because suddenly, the guy just _backed off_."

Murad slowly nodded. "Interesting."

"It was the growl," Leah explained, reluctant. Yes, she was speaking to a therapist, someone trained to listen to moments like these… but this was the first time Leah had genuinely thought about what happened, actually digested what she had seen and heard. To be honest, it hadn't been anything dramatic. But that _growl_… goodness that did something to her—

She blinked away the thought and continue before she lost her nerve. "Yeah. And that glare. Jacob looked like he was about to pummel the man."

"Is this the first time he's displayed such behavior? From what I hear, he's very protective of you."

"We're partners," Leah said. It was the truth, despite the doubtfully curious expression on Murad's face. Perhaps she thought Leah was downplaying the whole situation. Maybe Leah was, for her sanity. Fuck, she didn't know. "We're supposed to look out for each other."

"As partners do," Murad replied with a shrug. She was no more convincing than Leah in her previous statement, but both women silently decided to let the topic pass.

"Yeah…"

"I do recall you mentioning some time ago, I believe back in April, that Jacob made you feel alive," Murad said, startling Leah out of their moment of silence. "Are you referring to the fact that he had given you the bite and thus, a second chance?"

Leah swallowed; this was something she did _not_ want to discuss, even more than the previous subject. But she wasn't a damn coward. After some hesitation, she nodded slowly.

"How do you feel about that?"

"What, the bite?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. Grateful?" Leah replied quietly, rubbing her left shoulder with her right hand. "Upset, at myself, really. He's very sensitive with the whole turning thing, and his hand was forced because of my dumbass actions." She stopped, and then, "I guess sometimes I wonder if it was even worth it to put himself in that position."

"He could have done nothing."

"He could have."

"Perhaps he thought it would be worth it for him," Murad said slowly as if she wanted to get the fact through Leah's seemingly thick skull. "Despite all of the future complications. Cross-benefit analysis."

"I suppose..."

"You do apologize to him?"

"Yeah. I should stop, to be honest. He gets all flustered and embarrassed when I do, but I can't—"

"Because you don't think it had been worth it."

"I didn't want to _die_."

"Would you have felt better, less remorseful, if someone else had done it instead of Jacob?"

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know—" Leah let out a frustrated growl. "Where are you getting at?"

"I'm trying to understand you," Murad replied, honest. "You see yourself as a burden."

"I don't—" Leah screwed up her face. "That's not fair."

"Such is life," Murad said, flippantly, and then, "I think even with the whole mate/bond situation, you see yourself burdening Jacob with it—"

"That's not—"

"I, by any means, am an expert in such topics, but I do know that bonds are a two-way street," Murad carefully argued. "It doesn't happen unless both parties let it. It could be a conscious decision, or I suppose in both of your cases, completely unconscious."

Leah's brows drew together. "What are you—"

"We have five minutes left," Murad interrupted Leah, but she wasn't rushing her client out of the office.

Leah's expression loosened. She glanced up at the wall clock and blinked, surprised. "I can't believe how time quickly goes by…"

Murad's smile was soft before fading into something more serious. "My parting advice to you, Leah: both of you champion in the fact you have an open-door policy. You tell each other practically everything, including your less than stellar romantic history, don't mess that up because of something like this. And that's for the both of you. _Talk_, and be brutally honest, and I assure you that it'll all be fine."

"You promise?"

"I'm not one for promises," Murad admitted. "But in this case, yes."


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

Jacob stopped by the Clearwater residence on a Tuesday night with a 6-pack, large brown bag from Leah's favorite burger spot, and a sheepish, apologetic expression on his face. "I don't deserve…" he began when the front door open, trailing off with a gulp. He was visibly concerned about his words, half-way expecting Leah to slam the door right in his face. "I come in peace."

Leaning against the door frame, Leah waited for Jacob to find the right words. She hadn't expected him to be here, not at this time of night, not when they both had to be at work before the morning rush. She was going to question his intentions, but she took in one deep breath. Her mouth instantly water at the scent of numerous quarter-pound burgers. With Cheddar cheese. Lettuce, tomatoes, and that special sauce—Even if she were still mad at Jacob, which she wasn't, she would have been a fool to say no to the food.

She smiled at Jacob, reassuring him that no, she did not plan on getting him off the property and stepped aside, jerking a thumb toward in the inside of the home. "Just get in here, Black."

Jacob let out a sigh of relief.

Leah led the man past the living room and into the kitchen. "What brings you here at…?" She checked the clock hanging on the space above the backyard door. "Nine-nineteen?"

Jacob shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but he couldn't fool Leah. He was uncomfortable, a bit frazzled, but at the same time, trying to extinguish any fears and _calm down_. "Like I said: I come in peace." He swallowed and looked around. "Where's the rest of the crew?"

Seth was an academy retreat, and Sue decided to take a much-needed vacation with her friends to Miami. Leah pretty much had the entire house to herself for a week.

Jacob nodded and swallowed again. "Ah."

Leah folded her arms over her chest, eyes solely on her partner, curious. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm sorry that I wasn't exactly forthcoming with you before," Jacob said. "That wasn't my intention."

"Shock does that to you," Leah said quietly, loosening up a bit.

"Yeah," Jacob muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. "Good, ol' fashioned freak out."

Yeah, that must have been it. She had never seen him clammed up like _that _in her presence. As if all he had wanted to be anywhere but in front of her. Disappear in thin air and never come back— it wasn't a good look on him.

To be honest, Leah hadn't reacted too well, either.

Jacob lifted the food and beer. "Where should I set this?"

"The table is fine," Leah said. She pulled out a chair and sat down, taking a moment to take in the delicious smell of the food. She considered reaching out for it but convinced herself the food would taste better only after she and Jacob talked.

She knew he wasn't here for an impromptu take-out, late-night dinner date with a partner.

"We don't do this hiding-things-from-each-other shit. You know that" Leah said, startling Jacob a bit. But they needed to get the show on the road before they both chickened out.

Jacob sat down across from Leah, no longer hiding. He rolled his shoulders, finally relaxing in the chair, in the sight of Leah. "You're right. We don't," he said, and then, "I wasn't exactly expecting this to happen…"

"Is it so awful? This mating, sorry, bonding thing?" Leah wondered, cocking her head. She had done some research on the matter (of course, she had) and... it wasn't ideal. It implied something both knew they weren't ready for. At all. But they could handle it. From the sound of things, they didn't have much of a choice.

"In the grand scheme of things, no," Jacob admitted. "It doesn't have to, you know, mean anything. It doesn't have to change anything."

Leah doubted it would be that easy, but kept the thought to herself. Maybe Jacob had said those words to make the situation better, less confusing, _and_ even less menacing.

"Because this is only a bond," Leah wanted to clarify. "We're not mates."

Jacob shook his head, vehemently.

"Are you sure about that?" Leah asked carefully. "Because you weren't yesterday?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

He wasn't entirely sure, Leah noticed. More like 75-25; she supposed it was better than earlier. Round it off, and it would be a hundred percent— Leah was somewhat relieved (and Aisha would be, too). "So, what's the difference between the two?"

"It's not physical," Jacob said, and then added, insistent, "The bond."

"Ah." Leah dropped her gaze, focus on her fingernails, picking at them. After seconds passed, she pressed her hands onto the table. "How long has this _thing_," She gestured between them, "Been going on?"

"I honestly don't know," Jacob whispered. He bit down on his bottom lip and sighed. "I hadn't noticed until that idiot pointed it out."

"Aren't we the idiots?" Leah joked, partially serious, with a raised eyebrow. She had to chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

Jacob joined in and cracked a half-smile. "Touché," and then, "It's never happened to me before. It's never happened to any of the guys...I mean, yes, I've heard about it. Read about it, but—"

"Experiencing it is a whole other ball game," Leah finished quietly.

"Yeah."

"You've never experienced this before, with _anyone_?"

Jacob shook his head. "Nope."

"Not even with Monica?"

Leah hadn't meant to bring Monica up, but the whole bond-situation would have made more sense with her, right? Heck, she had been Jacob's high school sweetheart. They had been married. Even with Monica not knowing about Jacob's true self, the bond still could have happened, _right_?

Or maybe it had to be a two-way street.

_Fuck_.

Jacob's response was delayed yet adamant. "No."

"I thought you loved her?"

"It's not that simple," Jacob muttered, and then, "I _did_ love her."

And Leah didn't doubt that. Jacob had probably, most likely, loved Monica just like how Leah had loved Sam.

"Then, why not here?"

Jacob shrugged. "I honestly don't know. It's just…" He shrugged again. "I don't know. There's no rhyme or reason."

_It's like falling in love_, Leah could recall Quil telling her. She swallowed, pushing ill-timed thought aside and asked, because, damn it, she was getting hungry. "What happens now?"

"It doesn't have to mean anything."

"I'm your mate, Jacob. Sort of," Leah pointed out, shaking her head. "Of course, it means something."

"You're not—" Jacob stopped and breathed in. "Look, I don't want to mess this up," he said. "What you and I have... it's perfect. Probably the best thing that's happened to me in a while. Fuck, years, maybe my whole life. I'm not fucking it up. Not over _that_."

She wanted to tell her that she felt the same but kept the thought to herself. She cleared her throat and rose from her seat with Jacob following suit. "Thanks," she quietly said. "For the explanation."

Jacob snorted. "It wasn't much of one."

"It was better than before," Leah maintained, taking a few steps forward. She cupped the sides of Jacob's face, causing the man to tense up before relaxing in her touch. "Hey, listen to me," she quietly demanded, gently forcing Jacob to meet her gaze. "I'm not mad at you. Ride and Die, right? It doesn't matter how uncomfortable it is or whatever. Tell me things, okay?'

Jacob slowly nodded. "I know I should have..."

"And don't lie to me," Leah said, dropping her hands. "Not over something like this. I'm a big girl, Jacob. I can handle it."

"You're right."

"Good. So, now, we're going to eat this food, drink this beer." Leah stepped back and started heading out of the kitchen. "And we're going to attempt to binge the entire first season of _Stranger Things_ because Seth won't shut up about it. Got it?"

"Understood," Jacob breathed out, relieved. He quickly grabbed the food and drinks and followed his partner into the living room. "No reality show re-runs? I'm _shocked_."

Leah gave Jacob a small, amused smile. She flopped onto the couch, turned on the television, and connected her (Sue's) Netflix account. "Figured we'd do something different."

* * *

They brought it up to the rest of the pack because, of course, they had no other choice. It happened on a Saturday, the afternoon after an extremely late-night run. They were at Jacob's place, all sharing a few boxes of pizza with pop and wolfbane-free beer (this wasn't the time to get drunk), vegging out across Jacob's couch and floor, mindlessly watching a re-run of a basketball game.

All Leah wanted to do was eat and crawl into some bed and sleep. However, Jacob, being the responsible alpha, he was, decided to be _responsible_ by turning off the television (ignoring Embry and Jared's growls of protest) and told everyone to listen up.

They did, and Jacob told them the news.

Which, much to Leah's embarrassment, ended up not being _new_.

"I can't lie," Paul remarked, shoving half of a pizza slice into his mouth. "I can't say I'm too surprised by this development. I did consider having a wager but then decided that betting my on employees' personal lives wouldn't be ethical." He smirked. "See? I was trying to be a good captain."

Embry, Jared, and Quil laughed.

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, _Paul_," Jacob said, rolling his eyes. "But right now, we're not coworkers. We're pack mates."

Leah nodded. She agreed, but then again, it was tough separating the two. She, Paul, and Jared had become a part of the pack _because_ they were Jacob's coworkers. "At least, he was being ethical?" she told Jacob with a half shrug.

Paul grinned. "See, that's why you're in my unit, Clearwater," and then to Jacob, waving his hand in a circular motion, "Carry on."

"So, there's a bond between Leah and I—"

"I mean, _I_ could've told you that," Embry interrupted, sharing a fist with Jared. It was all smiles and giggles until they both caught the disapproving looks on Jacob and Leah's face. Jared cleared his throat and backed off while Embry, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, let out a nervous chuckle.

"But you didn't," Leah said, narrowing her eyes at the younger man.

Embry put up both hands, feigning innocence. "Um, if you haven't noticed, you two can get scary," he pointed out, earning a nod of agreement from Jared (Quil and Paul just shrugged). "Somethings are better figured out on your own."

Jacob growled at him, and Leah, being the mature person, took hold of a couch pillow and tossed it at the man.

"I can't believe you," Leah said. This was the same man who wouldn't stop giving her and Jacob shit-eating looks and smirks. The same man who had kept his mouth shut. "How long?"

Embry dodged the pillow. "I don't know." He shrugged. "You two were always close."

"True," Quil added.

Paul and Jared nodded.

Jacob slapped his forehead.

Leah threw up her arms.

"Hey, I've only read about it," Embry argued. "Heck, even had Kim explain to me about it once, which is extremely awkward, by the way... but, _shit_." He blinked and breathed out, So, it's really _real_?"

"Apparently," Jacob confirmed. He groaned when Embry tossed the pillow back at Leah, only to get hit with one second later. "What are we, five? Stop having pillow fights."

"She started it," Embry accused, pointing the finger at Leah, who, in turn, gave him the finger. "She's just mad because you two got called out."

"Paul, take him out of the Voldemort Unit."

"No can do, Clearwater," Paul said, clearly enjoying but not having any intentions on participating in the squabble. "Ethics."

Embry gave the captain two thumbs up while Leah rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on, were you two _really_ surprised?" Jared asked Leah and Jacob.

Suddenly feeling energized to move around, Leah rose from the couch and declared, "I'm leaving."

"You're not," Jacob told her.

Leah huffed and sat back down. She shot Embry another dirty look. "A little heads up from him would've been nice," she told Jacob. "He's been like this for _months_."

Embry dramatically clutched his chest. "Oh c'mon, now it's my fault?"

"It's no one's fault," Jacob insisted. "It simply happened."

"And it's not serious," Leah added. "Right, Jacob?"

Jacob gave her an odd look but nonetheless nodded. "Right."

"What is it about bonding that's not serious?" Jared carefully asked, looking between Jacob and Leah. "Because that's serious, right?"

Leah gave her partner a pointed look and raised an eyebrow. "_Jacob_."

"Yeah, what changes?" Embry asked.

"Nothing," Jacob declared, holding his head up high with confidence.

"Nothing," Leah confirmed.

"Nothing," Paul repeated carefully. He shared a look with Embry, Quil, and Jared, and they all looked even less convinced than the captain. "Nothing."

* * *

"Are you concerned about our work?"

Paul shook his head, waving dismissively. "Nah, things like this don't happen overnight." He glanced out to the office space through his glass walls, huffed, and asked Leah to close the blinds. "If it were going to be a problem, I would've dealt with it a long time ago," he added when Leah sat back down.

"Sorry to put you in this position, Paul," Jacob said, honest.

Leah nodded in agreement.

After all, the bond was a two-way street.

Paul put up a hand. "No need to apologize," he insisted, and then, stern, pointing down at the floor. "This stays in-house. Like only among the pack, and Aisha, too, since I'm sure you, Leah, already told her about it. And I guess Martinez will end up finding out because he's _him_." His suspicions were confirmed by Leah's and Jacob's bashful expression. "But as far as this unit goes, that's it. Understand?"

Jacob's hands shot up. "Of course."

"That won't be a problem," Leah vowed. "People at work know enough about my personal life. I don't need this to be in the rumor mill."

"Okay, then we're good?"

"We're good," Leah and Jacob said in unison.

"Good. Now let's get back to work before some random person sparks up another coven war."

* * *

Sam stopped by the station on a Thursday morning, bee-lining to Leah's desk when the coast was clear. He didn't want to admit it to Leah when she asked about it, but he was a little afraid of her partner. He was convinced that Jacob hated him. Leah would promise him that Jacob didn't like him. "A huge difference," she would tell him as she followed him to a secluded corner, quite reluctantly.

Sam claimed that he had some damning information to give her, and as soon as he pulled her aside, he went straight to the point before his ex could voice any protests. "I have some info on Mike Newton."

All thoughts of pushing Sam away and storming out of the area vacated Leah's mind as she stared at the man in front of her, breathless. She hadn't expected this, at all. "What are you doing, looking into Mike's case?"

She wasn't territorial, but the Mike Newton investigation was far from Sam's responsibility. It was officially a part of the Voldemort Unit, not her ex-husband's.

"It wasn't intentional," Sam maintained. "It literally fell on my lap."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "Is this your idea of a peace offering?"

"Is it working?"

"I don't know," Leah replied, crossing her arms. She stood up tall. "What do you have?"

"You remember Patrick, right? The guy who tried to kill his lover for not giving him enough money. We've talked a lot. Call it a quid pro quo arrangement."

Leah blinked. "You turned Patrick into an informant?"

"It's amazing what you can get with a promise of a severely lessened sentence, backed by the judge, of course."

"How's the good dentist going to feel about that?"

"He frequented an illicit escort business whose owner is five seconds away from getting slammed for trafficking charges," Sam said with a dismissive wave. "Many times."

"Did he know that?"

"Of course, he did," Sam said. "That's why Heidi offered him half-off on the services."

Leah raised an eyebrow. Oh, she hadn't known about that. Heidi, oh Heidi, that woman was in so much trouble. If the Volturi didn't off her, the feds sure would. Hypothetically, of course, she doubted the death penalty would be in play. Life in prison sounded more like it, though she still didn't fully understand the mechanics behind that. After all, Heidi was a vampire. "You're fucking with me."

"Nope," Sam said, attempting to subdued his proud smirk, and then, handing Leah a folder from under his arm, continued, "Look, I don't know if you can use this information with everything going on, but it's something."

Leah looked down at the folder. "It's something."

"A lifer shanked Mike in exchange for paying for said lifer's child's medical bills," Sam said, pointing at the folder. "The lifer is Michael Munson, put away for a double homicide back in 2010."

Clearing her throat, Leah opened the folder and skimmed through the contents. Information Michael Munson and numerous medical bills. "What are the bills about?"

"Munson's payment for his services," Sam explained. "I checked out with the hospital. Swedish. Everything checks out. All surgery expenses were paid in enough increments not to make it suspicious. It was delivered as a donation by a concerned citizen."

"Who was the surgery for?"

"His twelve-year-old daughter."

Leah sighed and closed the folder. "What's going to happen to Munson?"

"He's already put away for life. He's not the issue, the people who solicited the crime are," Sam said. "Hospitals won't rescind a donation like that, would they? I mean yeah, Munson's an asshole, but the kid had nothing to do with this."

Leah shrugged. She never dealt with something like this. "I'm sure a deal can be made. I know the system is cut-throat, but not everyone's heartless."

"Did Munson said who ordered it?"

Sam shook his head. "No, and I don't think he's going to tell us. Whoever ordered it knows his family, and unless we plan on tossing them into witness protection..."

"It's not going to happen," Leah concluded. Damn, she couldn't honestly blame Munson for his discretion. "Any suggestions?"

"At first, I thought it'd be the Volturi, but I have a strong feeling it's the Cullen's. I mean, the medical connection. Carlisle was a doctor."

Leah shook her head. "He would've been dead by the time Mike was offed."

"Yeah, true, but..."

"The Cullens…" Leah offered, trailing off with a nod. "They would have been upset about how the whole Lauren-situation was handled."

"Esme?" Sam suggested.

"She wasn't calling the shots at the time."

"Edward then," Sam offered. "The question is it's it prosecutable. What happened to Mike was messed up, but in the grand scheme of things, not as important as the other murders."

"He was both a state and federal witness," Leah reminded Sam. "That's big." She waved the folder. "Thank you for this. I mean it."

Mike-related bombshell withstanding, Leah viewed the conversation between herself and Sam as a revelation. In a matter of minutes, she realized her ability to stand in front of her ex-husband and feel not a damn thing. Like their marriage of several years had never happened. Like the Emily situation had never happened- she was talking to him as a coworker. Nothing more.

That was what Leah called progress.

Dr. Murad would be proud of her.

"You're welcome," Sam said. "Good luck with everything."

"Thanks."

* * *

"I know you don't trust Sam..." Leah said to Jacob a couple of hours later as she poured half of A-1 Steak Sauce over her way too-well done steak. It wasn't all too satisfying, but then again, she and Jacob were in a rush and, therefore, couldn't have their lunch at a much more respectable establishment. "But he does have good info, and he's willing to share it."

"It's not that I don't _trust_ him. I just don't like him for what he had done to you," Jacob said, grimacing at Leah's meal. He sighed and handed her his second hamburger. "But I can't deny he's damn good at his job."

Leah nodded and then frowned. "I'm not having half your lunch."

"The look on your face as you cut that steak makes me want to pity you."

Leah forcibly swallowed down a piece of meat. It was… tolerable. The sauce made it edible. "I hate pity," she grumbled.

She wasn't one to leave reviews on Yelp, but this place was going to hear her mouth.

"I know," Jacob said, adding a smirk. "Do it for me."

Leah rolled her eyes and took a bite. "Not half bad," she remarked, placing the burger done on her plate. She patted her mouth with a tissue. "They should be ashamed to call that cardboard a steak."

"Last time we're coming here," Jacob declared.

"It better be." Leah washed the food down with some water. What she honestly wanted was some beer, but not on the job even if the drink was wolfbane-free. "Sam thinks the Cullens were involved."

"It makes the most amount of sense," Jacob agreed. "Hiring a lifer for a hit. That's actually smart. He's got nothing to lose."

"Except his eleven-year-old daughter."

Jacob nodded. "Probably would've done the same," he admitted. "It's not a _name_, but this is some good information."

"Yeah..." Leah took another bite of the burger. "The Cullens have the strongest motive. Yes, the Volturi offered Thomas, but... Upper management, not named Carlisle, was concerned about his liaisons and how it affected the business. They were concerned about Jessica not staying in her lane, and now they had to worry about Lauren? It would've probably made everyone's life easier if Lauren had died in that ambush."

"And they blamed Mike for not letting that happen," Jacob added. "Lauren talking to us didn't help..."

"We _told_ her. We _warned_ her," Leah said, flashing back to that very conversation from months ago. Lauren had been so sure of her safety that the thought of being placed in witness protection was aforethought. Not long after that, she had been found shot to death in her apartment. By Mike's hand.

Jacob nodded. "We did." He leaned over, folding his hands. "I'm guessing these orders came from Edward, given that Esme didn't start running things until after his incarceration."

Leah agreed.

Jacob leaned back against the booth, "We'll run it through Paul," he suggested. "See what he wants to do with it."

* * *

"I owe you, big time," Jacob would whisper to Leah the following morning, handing her a cup of coffee, freshly brewed in the station break room. "For everything. For lying to you, putting you through all this 'bonding' mess…"

Leah shifted her attention from her coworkers, entering the large conference room to Jacob. They were both now sitting in the back, waiting for Paul to come in and give them the latest morning update on a case with seemingly no end.

She raised an eyebrow, puzzled until she wasn't. She took a sip of the drink, not the strongest, but from a much better batch than before. "That was like a week ago?"

"I know."

Leah nodded, glancing ahead at the sight of Embry and waved good morning before tapping Jacob on the hand, indicating that she was no longer pissed off about the Sean incident, but was willing to take up his offer. "Fund my coffee runs for until the Fall?"

Jacob raised both eyebrows. "I was expecting something more elaborate."

"You saved my life."

"Yeah, _months_ ago."

"Fact remains," Leah argued, and then, "I'm sorry for coming off as a bitch. I've been told that I don't react well to… shocking news."

Jacob shrugged. "Nah, I don't blame you." He raised an eyebrow. "So…?"

Leah's mouth twisted into a smile. "Okay _fine_. Even though I think this is completely unnecessary…" She relaxed in her chair. "Dinner after payday until the Fall?"

"Don't I do that anyway?"

"No, I'm not talking about a quick bite after a long shift. I want a nice place, not some burger spot," Leah clarified, serious but not really. "Preferably a steak house. I mean _Grade A _steaks. So good that I don't need sauce. And since that's not going to cost you twenty dollars a shot, you only have to do so until the Fall. How does that sound?"

"You're so considerate," Jacob said with slight sarcasm before adding a light chuckle.

Leah gave her partner a once-over. He was in a much lighter mood, lazy smiles and all. It was a good look on him.

"I try."

"Deal."

Leah sharply faced Jacob. "Deal, just like that?" Her voice was a bit louder than anticipated earning some looks from the others and smirks from Jared and Embry (she made a mental note to have a _chat_ with them), "Do you understand much steaks _cost_? With the coffee? We're not exactly earning superintendent money."

"I said _Deal_." Leaving no room for argument, Jacob extended his hand. "Seal it with a handshake?"

Leah locked hands with her partner and shook it. "Deal."

It wasn't perfect. Nothing was entirely resolved, but for now, it would do.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

"To be honest, I cannot say I'm too surprised by this new development. Bonding. _Wow_," Dr. Kim Lopez said to Leah as she performed the standard blood-pressure test. Once finished, she informed her patient that, "It's a little high, given the reason why you're here, it's not too surprising."

Leah sighed. The visit wasn't scheduled, technically not even supposed to happen until the end of the year. Still, Leah had called earlier frantically demanding an appointment due to her digestive system, launching a rebellion in response to the invasive, dangerous visitor known as chocolate.

Food poisoning was a bitch.

"You're not the only one," mumbled Leah as she sat up, pressing her hands against the area above her waist. She grimaced at the sound of her rumbling stomach. "I fucking hate this..."

She knew she shouldn't have had all that cake served at Seth's academy best friend's birthday party. But she couldn't help it.

It had tasted lovely.

Her stomach didn't agree.

"That sound is what happens when you digest three pieces of chocolate cake," Kim said before ordering Leah's mouth open. She inserted the thermometer. "Next time, if you're feeling dangerous, try a half of a slice," she recommended, withdrawing the instrument. "113 degrees— yep, that's a fever."

Leah groaned.

"I know you feel horrible, but consider yourself lucky. Chocolate is practically poison to canines. You could've died." Kim pulled on a pair of gloves. "So, when did you find out about the bond?"

Leah leaned back on the operating chair at the direction of the doctor. "Last week."

"And you're only telling me this now?" Kim said with a slight scoff, feeling on Leah's bottom torso. "You're bloated, alright. As expected."

Bloating sucked.

Leah's only saving grace was that Kim didn't seem all that concerned about Leah's health despite the fever and the uncooperative digestive system. It was something. It meant she would live. "Shit happens," she commented before groaning as Kim touched a sore spot.

"Seems to be the story of your life," Kim joked. She took a step back and tossed her gloves into the garbage. "You can sit up now."

"Oh, you have no idea..." Leah said. "I just—" She ran a hand down her face. "Why is Jacob having an existential crisis over this?"

"He is?" Kim lifted an eyebrow. "Interesting."

"I mean, he's gotten better," Leah remarked. "But still..."

Kim put up a finger. "Hold that thought. Let's talking about the reason you're here: from all accounts, it looks like you have good, ol' fashioned food poisoning. We'll have to take a stool sample as a precaution, but you'll be fine. With food poisoning, it just as to run its course. Remember, liquids and electrolytes are your friends. Stay away from dairy, fried, and spicy foods. And make sure you rest. If you follow my instruction, your fever will go away, and your bowels will operate as normal," then added, "I'll write a doctor's note for some medication, and recommendations for canine-friendly probiotics.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Food poisoning is never fun," Kim said. She handed Leah the note. "Now, the real question about this bond-issue is why you're not having an existential crisis. This is big."

"I have great coping skills," Leah said, shoving the piece of paper into her purse. "It's the reason why I'm currently not serving a sentence for aggravated battery and/or Murder-Two."

Kim's eyes widened. "Ah," she remarked, knowing precisely what Leah was referring to, then added, "It's probably a fear-thing."

"A fear-thing," Leah reiterated. Fear could be a bitch, just like food poisoning. "He said he didn't want to mess up our dynamic."

"I see you've answered your question," was Kim's unhelpful answer as she shifted through the cabinets. She pulled out the recognizable pink medicine, poured it into a small plastic cup, and handed it to Leah. "Pepto Bismal. Since you're standing on two's and not on four's, I gave you the normal dosage for people."

Leah checked out the medicine before ingesting it. "I didn't know I can still use this."

"Just as long as it's not chocolate-based," Kim teased, tapping Leah on the shoulder as her patient gave her a dirty look. After disposing of the now empty cup, she pulled up a chair. "I can understand when he's coming from," she carried on, switching topics once again. "It's not easy juggling between two lives: human-like and a wolf. Just because you're standing right here, in front of me, as a human woman, doesn't mean that wolf side of you isn't there. It's not just in plain sight. Makes sense?"

Leah slowly nodded. "Which is why I can't eat chocolate."

Kim nodded. "Yeah, that's why it can be so scary. You don't know which characteristic wants to make an appearance. I mean, yes, he's heard of bonding and mating, but to have it _happen _to him? That's a pretty big adjustment."

Leah adverted her gaze, clearing her throat. Perhaps, she had been a little unfair to Jacob. "Yeah..."

"See, human rel—connection is not as, I suppose, nuanced as the rest of the animal kingdom. Yes, we are social creatures. We have relationships— friendships, romances, familial bonds, sex— but it's different. For one, we don't have a mating season."

"Valentine's Day and the night following a Superbowl win don't count," Leah joked.

Kim smiled. "Good one, but no. That's all societal, not biological," she explained, then, "Look, shape-shifters live in two different worlds. I'm sure Jacob's been living in the human world for far longer than the wolf one. And given how most of the population isn't aware of the existence of the supernatural…."

"I get that, but what is about bonding that scares him?" Leah wondered. "Based on what I've read from credible sources, bonding isn't mating."

Leah didn't want to ever delve into the discussion of mating. That would only open a can of worms that no one was ready to deal with—call her a coward. She was only trying to keep the peace and not fuck up the best thing that had happened to her in quite some time.

But bonding, bonding wasn't mating.

Mating seemed complicated, while bonding was safe.

Kim's expression contorted, deep in thought. Some seconds passed when she snapped her fingers. "Giving the drama in your life, I honestly caution against using this analogy, but…" She trailed off, then clapped. "So, you know there's essentially two types of cheating, right?"

Leah covered her eyes with a hand and groaned. To her, cheating was _cheating_. But she entertained Kim because despite the vet being a human, she knew a hell of more things about wolves than Leah did.

"Physical and emotionally," Kim continued. "So, the physical is the one we're more used to hearing about: sleeping with someone you had no business being with, going on elicit dates—you know, something you can quantify."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know."

"But then, there's emotional cheating. That's a tricky one because nothing _tangible_ has to happen. There's no physical intimacy, not a lot of hand-holding. When it hits, you don't know until it's too late, and before you know it, you're no longer emotionally invested in the person you're supposed to be with. And you may not even know why…"

"_Shit_," Leah breathed out, feeling the tightness in her stomach, and this time, it had nothing do with her sickness.

"So, if we're going to use that analogy: mating is physical cheating; bonding is emotional cheating."

Leah dropped her gaze. The cheating example wasn't something she really wanted to hear, but couldn't deny that it did clear up some things. "Which one is worse?"

"Depends on the person," Kim said with a shrug. "But for some people, emotional is far scarier because you have to _think_. You honestly don't do all of that analyzing when you're, you know, having sex. A lot of it, especially if it's really good, everything runs on instinct. You're doing _something_. You're too occupied to worry about what-if." She gave Leah a pointed look. "Pardon my language, but the unknown can be a bitch."

* * *

"Are you alive?"

Leah was wondering that herself.

Several hours passed since her visit to the vet. Three hours since taking a nap. One hour since guzzling down some more Pepto Bismol and couple bottles of water. Ten minutes since arriving at her second home, the bathroom, to kneel in front of the shrine known as the toilet. Three minutes since her umpteenth bout of nausea, and she still wasn't feeling much better—this sucked _hard_.

"I'm dying over a toilet bowl," she whined into the phone lodged between her shoulder and cheek. She wasn't a whiner, but she felt like shit, and she figured Jacob wouldn't tease her (as much) about her uncharacteristic behavior, unlike Embry or Seth.

"Want me to get you anything?"

Running a damp hand down her face, Leah groaned as she sat up to lean against the side of the bathtub, adjacent to the toilet. She tossed her back, just hating everything, including chocolate. Chocolate could fucking burn in Hell. "How about a time machine?"

Jacob lowly chuckled over the phone. "Yeah, but not on a detective's salary. However, I can get you some bread, soup, applesauce, and of course, Gatorade."

"Yes, thank you."

"Be there within the hour."

Leah checked the time on her phone. 5:15 pm. Jacob must've gotten off from work already. She brought the phone to ear and smile, "Yeah, that'd be great."

* * *

"You look like shit."

Leah bristled. Okay, sure, Jacob wasn't entirely wrong. There was a reason why she had refused to look at the mirror since last night, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear such from the man whose opinion she valued.

"Thank you for your kind words," she grumbled, not hiding her sarcasm. She reached to take the grocery bags, but Jacob, thinking she was suddenly, pathetically, weak, insisted quite vehemently that he was fully capable of carrying the goods into the kitchen.

"You're sick," he reminded her, placing a hand on her forehead. He frowned. "A fever?"

"I checked twenty minutes ago. It's only 112 degrees," Leah said, sighing. "I'll live."

Jacob gave her a look. "You can't come into work tomorrow," he told her. It was more of a command.

To be honest, Leah didn't need that much convincing. Based on the way she had been feeling since this morning (weak, tired, and not even hungry), she had no intention of fighting crime anytime soon. However, she wanted to be one making the decision.

Leah walked pass Jacob towards the kitchen, then stopped when the realization hit her. She turned around, cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. "_Who_ _told_ _Paul_?"

"Kim."

So much for the doctor-patient privilege.

Leah tossed up her hands. "Of course, she did." She grumbled under her breath as she turned back around. "That's a HIPAA violation!"

Jacob rolled his eyes. "All she told him was that it would be a bad idea for you to come in tomorrow," he pointed out when they entered the kitchen. He set the bags aside and sat down. "I mean, not that _I_ was going to let you go, anyway."

"You can't make me do anything."

Jacob handed Leah a much-needed bottle of Gatorade before shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it onto the adjacent chair. "As I said, you look like shit."

"Do you know how many sick days I've used since September?"

"And whose fault is that?"

Leah gave the man the dirtiest look.

"Oh, come on, I meant no harm," Jacob insisted, laughing. "But three slices, why did you think that's okay?"

"I've seen you do worse!"

"Not _chocolate_."

Good point.

"I _forgot_," Leah argued. It was embarrassing, she had to admit, because deep inside she knew those slices of chocolatey-goodness had been a bad, terrible idea. Sending Jacob another dirty look, she gulped down half of the electrolyte-filled drink. "But they were so good. I couldn't just stop at one. I didn't even have dinner— But don't worry, I've learned my lesson."

"I'm glad," Jacob said. He took Leah's hand and squeezed it. "You need to rest."

Leah sighed as she withdrew her hand. There was Jacob, being a mother hen, again. Not that she didn't appreciate his concern, but she had already received enough lectures from her mother. "I've been resting for the past two days," she told Jacob, patting him on the shoulder."

"Leah—"

"I'm going to put on some tea."

Jacob pushed back in his chair. "Do you want me—"

Leah cut Jacob off with a raised hand, shaking her head. "_No_." She wasn't half-dead. She felt terrible, but she could put on some damn tea. "I got this," she said, staring Jacob down.

Jacob put up two hands and backed off, but his gaze remained on his partner as she moved around the kitchen. Just in case. Leah just let him. "Two sugars?" she asked, glancing behind her.

"Nah, don't need any. Trying to cut back on sugar. Rachel won't shut up about diabetes and shit."

Leah chuckled, making a mental note to thank Rachel for her intervention. Wolves had some advantages over humans, but they weren't immortal. "The benefits of having a nurse for a sister," she remarked. "You should listen to her."

"Hence the no-sugar."

Leah nodded as she turned on the water. "How's work?" she asked sometime later, watching the water slowly approach its boiling point. "Paul refuses to tell me anything because, according to him, I need to relax in body and mind. Aisha's out for the week. Martinez is conveniently not answering my texts. Embry and Jared said that Paul ordered them to keep their mouths shut— Something about not wanting to stress me out..." she trailed off with a sigh. "I guess I can't complain about being looked after, but you know how much I hate being in the dark."

"One of the many reasons why I'm here," Jacob said, patting the backpack sitting in the chair next to him. He unzipped it and withdrew a folder. "Can't leave you in the dark."

Leah grinned. See, that was why Jacob was such a great person to work with. "Does Paul know about this?"

"If he does, he hadn't said anything," Jacob replied, draping an arm along the back of his seat. "So, I'm gonna say no."

Leah rubbed her hands together in anticipation. "Tell me."

"Yesterday, I reached out to a buddy of mine in Cicero, a cop, for some info on Gianna. I know we've pretty much got the story, but we can't only rely on Heidi's and her employee's words. According to him, a missing person's report on Gianna was filed last year, but nothing came out of it."

Leah sharply turned around. "They were investigating her disappearance?"

"I wouldn't call it _investigating_," Jacob admitted with a slight frown. "At the end of last January, someone, anonymous, of course, had called, reporting that Gianna hadn't been at work for a week. No calls. No texts. No nothing."

Leah retrieved two mugs from the cabinet. She dropped in the tea bags and poured the hot water. "An employee?" she inquired, walking back to the table.

"See, I don't know," Jacob said, taking a cup. He thanked her as he helped her into her seat, despite her silent protests. "The Volturi has everyone in that place shook. I can't imagine someone working there, wanting to risk their wellbeing to call the police. Not for something like that. At least, not without the Volturi knowing."

"You have a point. Why nothing came out of the missing person's report, and how are we only finding about this now?"

"There is where it gets interesting: the investigating cops were treating Gianna as a runaway. They checked her social media accounts, the personal ones, not the one we had scanned before. There were numerous posts about wanting to get away, finding a new purpose in life, etcetera, etcetera..." He pulled out a handful of sheets from the folder and handed them to Leah. "Screenshots."

Leah skimmed through the pages. These posts were on Gianna's Facebook account, alright. "Are you sure she one making these posts?"

"No," Jacob admitted. "I mean, I can see why Cicero PD gave the posts one hundred percent credence but giving all of the BS we've been dealing with..."

"You can't be too sure."

"Nope."

Leah reviewed the pages once more. "It's possible that someone hacked into her account and made those posts," she suggested. "Or completely made the page themselves. When was the account created?"

"2010. There are still posts made in high school, way before Gianna was on the Volturi's radar."

Leah leaned against the back of her seat, crossing her arms. "So, someone got her password, then."

"Seems like it, and that person might not have to steal it. Despite the PSA's, people still share their passwords. Or, she didn't use judgment and decided to log onto a work computer. The IT department could easily get her password of systems."

"Yes, they could. If that's the case and someone else made those posts one week before Gianna's death, that's proof that murder was premeditated."

"More evidence is never had… Well, my buddy's gonna talk to his boss about re-opening the case since Gianna's the subject of a major one in Chicago. It's not perfect, but it's something."

"No, that's good. Shit, we need all the help we can get."

"I also looked into the inmate who shanked Mike."

"You've been busy," Leah remarked, impressed.

"Had to make up for your absence," Jacob said with a wink. "Two days before Mike's death, Munson received a visit from a public defender named Vince Novak."

"Walter Novak's son?"

Walter Novak—A notorious lawyer for the mob.

Jacob nodded. "The son has ties to our favorite fixer's paralegal."

"Alice?"

"Yep."

"Alice Brandon wouldn't make any moves unless Rosalie knew about it," she said. "So, are you telling me that Rosalie's involved, too?"

"Would you be surprised?" Jacob asked. "Mike was about to sing, which would've been disastrous for our favorite covens. He had dirt on _everyone_."

"But this is Rosalie, we're talking about," Leah argued. "She wouldn't do something so stupid. She's too smart for that shit."

"Or, just as a thought, maybe Novak didn't have to talk to Alice. Maybe the Cullens got to him without Rosalie or Alice getting involved. Because you're right, Rosalie isn't stupid—but I still think it's something we should check on."

"Novak?"

"Yes."

"We need to play it safe. Novak's a public defender. People already think one of the ASA office's main goal in life is to ruin public defenders' careers," Leah said, seeing the whole Novak-situation blowing up in their faces. She wasn't being pessimistic, only realistic. "The last thing we need, Jenks need, is for Novak to spew conspiracy theories."

Jacob tossed up his hands. "Well, there goes my plan to question the man."

"You know what won't end well. The county's still reeling from the Sorio-fiasco. We don't hear the end of it from City Hall, who's been telling everyone that the era of public corruption is over."

Jacob snorted. "Oh, come on, even Abel knows _that's_ a lie."

"Not the point," Leah maintained, then stopped when the realization hit. She picked up Munson's rap sheet. "Munson hasn't been charged with anything recently, not since 2015." She glanced up, bewildered. "Then why was Novak talking to him? The man's put away for life."

"Why do you think I'm suspicious of Novak?"


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

It was _way_ too early for a unit meeting.

Leah knew Paul had meant well. Meetings were important. Meetings allowed everyone to come together and communicate as one unit instead of separate cliques (forced or not). Meetings provided a chance to hear from the hierarchy, to make sure that everyone was on the same page, achieving the same mission.

But there was no reason why Paul had to call for a meeting at _7:30 in the goddamn morning_.

Meetings were for 10:00 am, maybe even 9:00 am, and that was pushing it.

Leah checked on the rest of the Voldemort Unit, whose attention was towards their captain standing in front of the office space with a clipboard in his hand. Judging on the look on their faces, the tiredness of their eyes, tightening in their body, and, of course, the obligatory cup of coffee, everyone besides Paul felt the same.

If Paul was aware of the vibe he was getting from his subordinates, he didn't show it. This was a critical meeting, he had said. It would only last a half an hour, he had promised. _You'll live_, he had told everyone over the groans.

Holding his prized clipboard up, the captain began reading off the extensive lists of death relating to the Voldemort Unit's extensive and seemingly never-ending investigation. "Jessica Stanley?"

Everyone exchanged looks with everyone else, searching for someone to take one for the team. The murder of Jessica Stanley, dubbed the "Chicago Dahlia" by the media, was a difficult case to crack simply because it was a hell of a lot more complicated than anyone had expected. Give it a few more months, and it would be an episode on virtual every American true-crime podcast in existence.

After a long moment of silence, Leah decided to take a bite. "Currently cold," she admitted before taking a sip of her equally cold coffee. "We have a suspect, Demetri Karlov of the Volturi, but he's also dead." She continued after the explosion of groans, "But we are looking into the circumstances behind the victim mutilation since it was... different. Unfortunately, thanks to the federal bureaucracy, we're in a bind until a certain agency allows us to question their subjects."

"And when will that be?"

"It's the _feds_."

The feds were fine. The feds helped the police department out all the time despite their territorial disputes, but one week for them (unless a national emergency) could be a month or a year— Leah wasn't too optimistic.

Frowning, Paul made a mark on the piece of paper fastened onto his clipboard. "What happened to Suspect No. One?"

"Dead," a cop declared from the far left side of the crowd.

"Rumor has it that one of the Cullen's knocked him off," Aisha added. "But no one's admitting anything. Currently, his death is ruled as a good, ol' fashioned suicide."

"So, is it closed?"

"It's on vacation," Embry amended quickly. He and Aisha had been working around the clock, searching a suspect behind Demetri's murder. But to no one's surprise, the Olympic coven was being difficult. "Feds ain't interested in him. Think the man had it coming."

"Which, he did," Jared remarked.

"Yeah, but a hit is a hit."

Paul nodded, but, "It's not an assassination."

"Hence why the feds aren't too interested," Embry grumbled, crossing his arms. "It's really not helping our case."

"But we're _not_ giving up," Aisha tossed in, giving Embry a sharp look.

Embry shrugged.

Paul moved on. "Gianna Castellano?"

Another headache.

"We have reasons to believed that Demetri killed her on orders from the Volturi," Jacob replied with confidence. "It seems that she didn't play her cards right... until we can get something from the Volturi, nothing much is happening."

"They may be playing it safe because of the whole vampire-thing," Jacob suggested. "We may not like it, but the Deal's still in place."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me." He made another mark on the page; his frowned deepened. "So… we have three homicides that went cold."

Leah grimaced—she hated cold cases; there was just something about them that made one lose help. It didn't matter how many leads were followed, how many hours spent searching through evidence, talking to people... if there was no clear suspect, no reason to bring someone to court, all of that hard work would amount to nothing. Sometimes, it never would.

Though, three cold cases weren't entirely bad.

But still.

"The Slaughterhouse murders?"

The scene of that particular crime was undoubtedly the most gruesome Leah had ever encountered. People buried inside walls? Others found stabbed to death on the cold ground? Blood everywhere? The shapeshifter shot in mid-transformation?

_Bree_.

"Victoria and her people did it," Martinez said. "Basically, it was a cluster-_whatever_ involving the Fangs who we're still trying to shake down. Currently, they have plans to move into Victoria's territory because she and her people are chilling in Alcatraz. But, the one we've managed to snatch all pled guilty. That's something, right?"

"Yeah, something—the Denali murders?"

"Feds took that over," Aisha said, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. Her sigh of relief didn't go unnoticed. "Officially out of our hands."

"What about Irina?"

"So... we don't know if she's actually dead," Aisha said, then, shaking her head, "No, let me rephrase that, we are pretty certain she's dead, but due lack of a body and such, she's only been declared as missing. But it's kinda convenient that she disappeared days before she was scheduled to speak with the authorities."

"Tanya shanked her," Jared said.

Aisha slowly nodded. "She is the primary suspect. Everyone knows she can express herself... passionately," she said. "I believe the feds are handling that as well since she was their witness."

Leah let out a soft snort and shook her head. Tanya's situation was truly unfortunate. If only she had played her cards right, she would've still been engaged to Edward Masen, could've possibly taken Esme's position of the acting boss of the Olympic coven and not be reduced to a... goodness knows what.

"That woman's nuts," shouted someone from the right portion of the crowd.

"Betrayal can make anyone go nuts," Leah commented. It wasn't right or wise what Tanya had done, but it was somewhat understandable. Betrayal was a son of a bitch. Evidence found Irina sleeping with Demetri, a member of the hated-Volturi? That had to have been Tanya's version of finding out her husband impregnated her cousin.

"Giving her a pass, Clearwater?"

Leah looked over her shoulder to glare at the smug cop behind her. "No, it's called _perspective_, Gordo."

Gordo put up both hands and backed off.

Paul paid the detectives no mind. He looked down at his list and read off, "Riley Biers?"

"Victoria had him killed in retaliation for talking to us," Leah said, flashing back to the letter she received the previous week. It still affected her. "He had seen it coming..."

"Why even bother?" remarked another cop.

"He was one to one of the slaughterhouse victims, the youngest one: Bree," Leah explained, dropping her gaze to the floor. Such a damn shame, what happened to those two. Two lost souls searching for a family, only to get burned by the one they had looked up to. "They had a brother-sister relationship. He didn't appreciate Victoria lying to him about Bree."

"Lauren Mallory?"

"Mike Newton killed her on what we believe was recommended by the Cullen's," Jacob said. "She also ratted to no, which is not appreciated by some. Unfortunately, we don't have the whole story as of now because Mike's also dead—Officially, it's ruled suicide. Unofficially, it was a hit." Everyone with a brain knew it was the latter. "Folks weren't too happy about his behavior following the destruction of his bar."

"Is it cold?"

No, far from it.

Jacob cleared his throat. "We're working on it."

Paul's expression was doubtful with a little sliver of hope. He made a throaty nose as he crossed Mike's name off the list, then read out loud, "Detective Sam Uley?"

Everyone froze at the sound of his name. Last year, Sam had become one of the many victims of Maria's paranoia-fueled purge of the Velasquez Cartel. The only saving grace, no one had known that Sam was an undercover cop.

"He's not dead," Leah eventually responded when no one wanted to. She almost regretted saying anything; people in this place knew about her relationship with her then-husband. Some still believe she was bitter about it; someone even suggested she had been joyous at the news of Sam falling under a coma- Leah didn't know which rumor was more insulting.

But she was fucking sick and tired of it.

She was no longer bitter, more annoyed than anything.

So, all those people could go fuck themselves, _thank you._

"He almost was," Paul argued before anyone else could make a snide comment. "Any update, Martinez?"

Martinez let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, Maria's still in Mexico. She was deported before we could raise legal Hell, so you know how that goes…

If Maria played her cards right, she might get away with this.

Keyword: if.

"We managed to get a hold of couple henchmen before Sam's attempted hit," one of the cops assigned to Martinez's group said. "But they're not talking. _At all_."

Martinez ran a hand down his face. "To be honest, they should be teaching classes on how not to snitch. They're more in-tuned with the concept of omerta that the mafia."

"They should've kept her in this country," another cop told Paul. "Put her right in Alcatraz."

Agreement and disagreement broke out among the crowd.

"Where Victoria is currently being held?" Paul's question ended in a burst of sarcastic laughter. "That would even splendidly. No disrespect, but we have a good relationship with that prison's warden. Let's try to keep it that way, shall we?"

"So, what do we do now?" asked detective standing across from Leah asked. Frustration was evident in his voice. "Let them off the hook? They did try to kill one of our own."

"Didn't we catch a couple involved already?" Leah pointed out. "Sure, they're not the big dish, but they're not getting out of prison any time soon."

Gordo snorted from behind her, "You would way that."

Leah brushed off the unnecessary comment, but Jacob didn't. "_Go fuck yourself_," he snarled, taking a step towards the man. Gordo squared up. Everyone looked on to see what would happen next, but Paul, being the responsible boss that he was, quickly put a stop to it.

"Both of you, cut it out!" he shouted out the increasing chatter from the rest of his unit. He glowered at both Jacob and Gordo, who looked moments away from _expressing_ themselves through fists. Eventually, both men backed down. Shaking his head, he caught sight of Leah's raised hand. He made an exasperated noise. "Yes, Clearwater?"

Leah pushed herself off the edge of the table and stood up tall. "I would like to take this time to remind everyone that despite my personal… drama with Detective Sam Uley, I still understand what he is one of _us_," she declared. "I want those involved in his shooting to punished just as much as everyone in this room." She faced Gordo, staring him down. "_Got it_?"

"Thank you, Detective, for that point. Does everyone _got it_?" Paul asked (demanded) as he scanned the room, daring anyone to put up a protest. Once satisfied, the captain continued with, "_Good_. I don't want to hear about it again. Now, Martinez, I don't care what you do, as long as it's legal, get something on them. That cartel is honestly getting on my nerves."

"Yeah, yeah, we're working on it with the ATF, who is being very cooperative," Martinez said. "They're very interested in Maria's blood and UV business."

* * *

"_Thank god for the feds_," shouted someone from the back of the crowd.

Everyone laughed.

* * *

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Jacob and Leah had spent most of the morning outside of the office, roaming around the city of Chicago, hoping and praying that something of note would come up. Following lunch, the pair returned to the station where they figured they would spend the rest of the workday, barring crazy happening—Leah was fine with that. A little desk work would do her and Jacob some good.

"Vincent Novak. Just turned forty-two last week," Leah read from the pages in her hand. Finding information was Novak wasn't very easy. All they had on the attorney so far came from a small biography found on the internet. "Graduated from Loyola Law in '05. Hired as a public defender back in '08…"

Jacob loudly cleared his throat. "I thought you didn't want to go down this road?"

Leah looked up and frowned. Her initial reluctance had less to do with butting heads with the smug lawyer and more to do with butting heads with her captain (and the brass). "I know what I said, but… I think he'll come around. I think he'll agree. What we got here, it's big."

Jacob slowly nodded. "'Let's hope…" he said, trailing off as his eyes followed Paul walking into his office. He pushed back in his seat and stood up. "Better now than later."

"Vincent Novak...What did this defense attorney do to deserve your scrutiny?"

"He was seen speaking with the man, who, according to our sources, shanked Mike Newton in prison."

"Novak also has ties to Rosalie Hale's paralegal, Alice Brandon."

Paul's mouth set in a hard line as he looked between the detectives, skeptical. "Is that... all?"

Leah and Jacob turned to each other. They both knew their explanation didn't provide enough justification for a warrant, but it was the best they had at this time.

"Maybe?"

"Leah and I are looking into it."

Shaking his head, Paul slid the report further up his desk and leaned back in his chair. "So, basically, you have nothing."

Leah cringed.

Jacob glanced to his left, making eye contact with his partner. "We have a suspicion," he said.

Paul snorted at Jacob's response. "Which means nothing under the law."

"Not true," Leah argued. They had something. "Reasonable suspicion is grounds for an arrest warrant."

"Yes, _reasonable_. A lawyer talking to an inmate doesn't count. Novak's defense lawyer will have a field with that.

"That inmate killed Mike," Jacob stressed.

"Do we have proof of that or only a source's word?" Paul asked, giving both detectives a pointed look. He wasn't trying to be an asshole, Leah had to remind herself. He was just doing his job. "Listen, I'm not saying ignore him. Everyone knows Novak's a little snake, so it would be to no one's surprise if he's involved in some mess. Just tell me what it is and make sure that evidence holds in court."

"Any direction?" Leah asked.

"Talk to our favorite prosecutor. If there's anyone who knows about Novak's shenanigans, it's going to be him."

* * *

"Vincent Novak…" Jenks mumbled under his breath as he worked his Keurig, sitting on a bureau next to his desk. It was Wednesday morning, two hours before he was scheduled to appear in front of a judge and a grand jury. The meeting he was currently having with Leah and Jacob couldn't go past fifteen minutes. "I don't know what to tell you." He faced his guests, taking a sip of his coffee. "He's a public defender with plans of becoming a high-stakes private one. Has many cases under his breath. Not the most well-liked man, but he gets the job done."

That wasn't a glaring endorsement.

"Anything you can tell about him… potentially nefarious?"

Jenks didn't immediately respond to Leah, but the deep frown on his face and crinkling of his nose and forehead told everything. Releasing a huff, he sat down and leaned back in his chair. "Like what?" he asked, locking eyes with Leah."

"I don't know the man," he insisted with a half shrug. "I have no reason to speak out against him."

That was a lie, but Leah wasn't going to hold it against the prosecutor who was only trying to cover himself, deflect any possible rumors. They all did it. "I'm you don't," she said, but we only want to do our due diligence."

Jacob nodded.

Jenks eyed the detectives as his puzzled expression turned into a grimace. He cursed his breath. "His name popped up, didn't it?" After receiving an affirmative, he slammed a fist on the desk. "What do you want with him?"

"We can start with Novak answering some questions," Jacob said.

Jenks let out a humorless laugh. "Ha! That would end well."

So, there _was_ a history, and from the looks of it, a history that Jenks had no intentions of telling.

"Thank you, Counselor," Leah said, forcing a smile as she rose her seat, followed by Jacob. Frustrated, yet not surprised, she figured the meeting was effectively over. "I think that will be all for now. Have a great day—"

Jenks put a hand, stopping the detectives from leaving. "Sit down," he implored, pointing at the chairs in front of his desk. He let out an exasperated sigh. "Like I said: I don't really know the man. But if you feel so inclined… look into the 2009 case, _People v. Michael Theodore Newton_. You can make your own assumptions from there."

"Thank you," Jacob said.

"If you'd like to speak to him, then you're going to have to wait until next week," Jacob informed the detectives. Then, with the roll of his eyes, he added, "He's on his _fourth_ honeymoon."

* * *

"I can't lie, it's been a while since I've heard that name," Vincent Novak told the detectives. He appeared to be at ease inside his workspace, ready to answer thrown his way. "Michael Theodore Newton." He let out a dramatic sigh. "Such a shame what happened to him…"

"It is," Leah said, eyeing the attorney. There was no sympathy behind his words. "Which is why we would like to talk to you."

Vincent rose from his seat and maneuvered around his medium-sized cubicle towards the mini-fridge. "Yes, our paralegal mentioned something about that." He offered the detectives some water before taking one bottle for himself. He sat down behind his desk. "Last I heard, Mike Newton completed suicide, most likely after realizing he was finished. With all due respect, what else is there to discuss?"

"I'm sure you know about his affiliations," Jacob replied. He was just as suspicious as Leah; only he didn't hide it. Leah had to pinch his thigh under the table to remind him to school his features—they had to be careful. Novak was a lawyer; just like the police, a significant part of his job was to pay attention to body language.

Novak shrugged. "Who isn't?"

"Do you believe it was suicide?" Leah asked.

"I have my opinions," Novak eventually said in a steady forced, almost forced. He played with the papers on his desks aimlessly before tightly folding his hands. "But… it was formally ruled as a suicide."

Leah rephrased her question. "In your professional opinion, do you think Mike Newton's death was murder or suicide?"

"He was a wanted man."

"Murder, then," Leah concluded. "Did you mention your opinion to anyone?"

"I didn't want to get involved."

"Why not?" Jacob asked, voice tight.

Novak sat up tall in his seat. "Why would I?"

"You used to represent Mike Newton," Leah said. "Aren't you curious about what happened to one of your clients?"

"I am a public defender in Chicago, Detective Black. Mike Newton's death isn't an anomaly."

"True… How many times did you serve as Mike Newton's counsel?"

"One time."

Why allow about something that could get so easily verified?

"Which case?" Leah asked.

"It was a while again, one of my first cases," Novak said with a dismissive wave. "It wasn't anything special."

"Let's discuss that case if you don't mind," Leah suggested. She pulled out a few copies of the court records, handed one to Jacob, and the other to Novak a copy in case his mind became conveniently clogged. "Back in 2009, Mike Newton was arrested and charged for sexual harassment, assault, and public indecency… He was caught chasing around a young woman with his genitals exposed, brandishing a weapon."

"Sounds serious," Jacob remarked.

"They had an argument," Novak stated.

Leah nodded and continued reading off the case summary. "The woman went by the name of Mia Rambova, real name Anastasia Vladmirovna Bobrova. In 2009, aged 26. She arrived in the US from Russia back in '07. Charges dropped due to lack of evidence."

Mia Rambova, as discovered during CPD's raid of Sonja DuPont's _talent agency_, was a consistently serviced Sorio, Novak's mentor. The latest record of her was from 2009.

Novak shrugged. "It happens."

"It happens," Jacob reiterated.

Novak gave Jacob a dirty look. "I do not understand where you're going with this."

"Don't you find it convenient?" Leah asked. "Rambova was seen last around town, about a week before she was set to testify, and then... vanished."

"I do not know anything about that."

"Like he said, it happens," Jacob told his partner with thinly-veiled sarcasm, and then asked Novak, "What _do_ you know about her?"

"Natasha?" Novak drew his eyebrows together and shook his head. "Not a thing."

"Did you find anything during discovery?" Leah asked.

"It was an open-and-shut case. Newton was drunk out of his mind during the incident. He couldn't even remember his own name that night. It was his words against hers."

"A wasted man's words over the presumably sober victim," Jacob remarked. "Of course."

"In our business," Leah said. "That's what we would call as open-and-shut. "Mia, _Anastasia_, was rumored to have been trafficked from Europe. She reportedly worked for Sonja DuPont—know anything about that?"

"_No_."

"The incident occurred in the Gold Coast neighborhood," Jacob said. "Right in front of the building where Mrs. DuPont had her matchmaking and talent business. Were you aware of that?"

Novak narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Is this an interrogation?"

"No," Leah insisted. "We're only trying to cover our bases. See, we were going through some documents relating to this case and realized that there some information not mentioned."

"How would you know?" Novak challenged. "It was bench trial."

"Yeah, that's what threw us off," Leah said. "Why a bench trial for a sexual assault case? You didn't want to deal with a jury?"

"It wasn't necessary," Novak insisted in a tone used for those he deemed beneath him. Leah knew that tone very well. "The people of Chicago have enough to deal with. Juries are for serious crimes."

"Sexual assault isn't considered a serious crime?"

Novak slightly raised a hand. "Rambova was a prostitute," he argued. "Rumored to be."

"And why should that have mattered?" Jacob asked.

"Because she was lying," Novak replied, head held up high.

Leah wished she could knock down a peg.

Or ten.

"How did you know she was lying?" Leah asked. "According to the court records, there was no disposition and obviously, not cross-examination."

"I just knew she was lying," Novak maintained, raising his voice. He tapped his temple a few times. "Sixth sense."

Leah wasn't impressed.

"Gut feelings do wonders, don't they?" Jacob taunted.

"What is the purpose of this meeting?" Novak demanded. He was becoming quite defensive. Wonderful. "I don't understand why we're discussing a case from a decade ago. A case that went nowhere."

"See, that's the problem," Leah said. "It _was_ a case that went nowhere—"

Novak made a frustrated noise. "What does this have to with Newton's death?"

"You tell us."

"That wasn't the first time you had heard from Rambova, was it?" Leah asked, noticing the way Novak played with the bottom of his silk tie, a nervous habit, she decided. Which was good; nervous meant that Novak's arrogant aura was bound to disappear by the time the meeting was over. "We've found numerous cases with Anastasia Bobrova and her workers, all linked to Mrs. DuPont's talent agency, including twelve with your favorite client being the defendant. All defended by _you_."

"Your point?"

The point was that Novak was a _public defender_, not a private defense attorney. He was supposed to be at the disposal of the city of Chicago, not Mike Newton, a public citizen.

"Did you learn about her circumstances?" Jacob asked, crossing his arms. "Or did you not bother because you knew the charges were going to be dropped?"

The formally Honorable Calvin Sorio was such a fucking snake.

Novak bristled, but then took a deep breath. "I don't know what game you two are playing, but I do not appreciate—"

Leah cut him off. "How much did you get paid for your services?"

Who paid him? Was it the same people who persuaded Munson to slit Mike Newton's throat? Did Novak become involved due to a fallout between Mike and him? Did it involve some money? Shit, maybe. It was always about the money, along with pride as a close second.

Novak planted both hands flat on his desk and rose from his seat. Fixing his tie as he leered down at the detectives with contempt, Novak decided that, "This meeting is over."

Leah didn't suppress her smirk. She had certainly hit a nerve—_Perfect_.

Leaning back in his seat, Jacob looked up at the Novak, mocking. "I thought we were having so much fun?

"I know about you, Detective Black," Novak told Jacob through gritted teeth. "I know about your family, about your father, and I have no qualms about blowing your cover—" He let out a maniacal laugh. "A cop with gang connections? I'm sure the city would _love_ that."

"It sounds like a damn good redemption story to me," Leah said before Jacob (and his clenched fists and glare) could respond with a threat of his head. She stood up. "Man overcoming familial sins… But you, on the other hand, a public defender working for the mob, for a corrupted judge?" She shook her head. "I doubt many people would appreciate that."

Novak's eyes narrowed. He tried to appear menacing, but only succeeding in looking like a pouting child. "Are you trying to extort me?"

"Tell us about Mike Newton," Leah told Novak, "And then, we can forget all out about this conversation."

"Your choice," Jacob added, relaxing his hands.

But his glare remained.

Novak's scoff was exceptionally obnoxious. "You walk around, thinking you're immune, but you're not," he bit out. "They will hunt you _both_ down."

"Not before they get to you," Jacob shot back.

"You know what? No deal," Novak declared, puffing out his desk. "Go ahead," he dared, "Tell the press about my so-called ties. I'm a goddamn lawyer, one of the best out there. I have a background in marketing—I can twist the story _any_ way I want. You don't scare me."

Jacob raised both eyebrows as Leah held her tongue. She couldn't believe it. After all of his denials, Novak had just outed himself. They got him. Sort of—they would need for him to talk more. They would need him to provide the name of the person truly calling the shots and a motive.

But they _got_ him.

* * *

"You need to work on your poker face."

"He was involved in Mike's death."

"Yes... we know he was. But that doesn't mean you should've glared at the man. The entire time."

"He was bullshitting us. Tried to use my family-shit against me."

"Only towards the end—Look, I'm not defending that prick. I'm just saying."

"I know. I have to… I'll work on it. Sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"No need to apologize. I just don't want you to get in trouble. As much as I'd love to see you plummet that bastard into the ground, the repercussions wouldn't have been worth it."

* * *

"Vincent Novak, the public defender?" Rosalie raised an eye as she poured some blood into a wine glass. For a moment, she had forgotten Leah's status and offered the other woman a drink. After apologizing (with shocking sincerity), she took a long sip and continued, "Personally, I do not know much about him."

A common trend, apparently.

Someone _had_ to know the man. He wasn't a damn ghost, and he certainly wasn't in hiding. Just earlier that week, Leah had seen Novak roaming the court halls following a hearing, dressed to the nines in a suit that she meager salary couldn't afford, flashing a blinding, confident grin at anyone who passed him. Handing out his business card to eventually, particularly those would look like they had money and the members of the press.

Novak was the celebrity-type, and usually, such people didn't know how to keep secrets to themselves.

"_Personally_." Leah crossed her arms, eyeing the other woman. Being a little after nine in the event, it was too late for this bullshit. All she wanted as an answer, and then, she could go home in peace. "But what about professionally?"

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "You have something on him," she realized. Her smirk transformed into a proud smile, which was quickly replaced. "About damn time."

Leah could have denied it. Showing her hand to the other side was disadvantageous, at best. But she figured she could spin the admission to her benefit. She could feel by Rosalie's expression that she wasn't a big fan of the public defender either.

"We're only covering all of our bases," Leah confessed.

"Covering your bases…" Rosalie reiterated with a slight nod. She placed aside her half-emptied glass of blood. "I know Novak, professionally, and I have to say, I'd rather deal with Esme's main counsel, Amun Husseini, _any day_. At least, Husseini has the right to be arrogant." She shook her head. "I could care less about what happens to Novak."

Leah remained quiet. She had to admit, she had never heard Rosalie speak of another with such hatred. Novak must have crossed his paths and fucked her over—Bad for him, but good for Leah and the investigation. However, she couldn't be too excited. Rosalie was on the other team, representing Heidi, who was moments away from being arrest by the feds. She couldn't be given any more rope.

"I can help you out," Rosalie offered, breaking the silence. "For a price, of course. We're not in the business of operating pro-bono."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Leah said, pulling up a chair and sitting down across from Rosalie. Of course, there was a price. Rosalie didn't do anything for free. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

Jacob wasn't too pleased about the deal Leah had stricken with Rosalie Hale the night before. At least, her partner wasn't flat-out saying "no" at this moment. He had his doubts, had every right to have them, but he seemed willing to compromise.

"So?" she asked.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"Are you down?"

Jacob ran a hand down his face. "I can't believe this is a consideration."

Leah sighed. "It's not the most ideal, but yeah, it's a consideration."

"We're letting her go."

"Technically, yes…" Leah cleared her throat. "It knows it sounds… but listen: Heidi's fucked. Whether we act or not, the feds are two seconds away from snatching her away on trafficking charges. Unless a deal is reached between her and the feds, she's done."

"You think they will?"

"Reach a deal? I don't know, but it won't be our problem," Leah insisted. She already had everything planned out, even contingency plans. "Plus, we're working with the feds on the Volturi case, right? We're supposed to sharing pertinent information with each other, right?"

Jacob nodded. "One would hope."

"Well, then, if something comes up, we'll know about it."

"Your complete faith in the justice system is admirable."

Leah wouldn't say she had _complete_ faith. She just knew that the system, like anything else, operated a little bartering. All that mattered was the bottom line, and if everything worked out, Mike's suicide would officially be ruled as a homicide.

"It's a risk."

"It'd be worth it," Leah replied with confidence. "Anyway, Heidi's in enough trouble as it is. By the end of the year, she'll either be having an indefinite vacation inside Alcatraz or in a body bag.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

"So, what's up with the half-devoured deer?" Leah asked, not believing or fully comprehending the sight in front of her. Thank goodness, the floor in from of Jacob's kitchen that the carcass of resting was completely made out tile. She could only imagine (in horror) the amount of time it would take scrubbed venison guts from the carpet.

She blinked a couple of times. Why was she even here? When Embry had called her about a half an hour earlier, practically begging her to stop over Jacob's, she had expected the worse. The sight in front of her was certainly not the worst, just bizarre.

"Long story," Embry said, stealing Jacob a glance. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of the wolf chewing on the carcass' head like it was a damn chew-toy. "He's in one of those moods."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "One of those moods?" she asked, walking further inside. He tossed aside her bag onto the living room couch. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Sometimes, you just wanna be a wolf," Embry said simply with a shrug. "Being a wolf is _so_ simple. You'll see once you stop getting amnesia…" he tapered off, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck at the sight of Leah's glare. "_Anyway_, you don't have to worry about—"

"_Embry_, is he okay?"

That was all Leah wanted to know.

"Yeah, he's fine," Embry insisted, moving his hand around in circles. "Like I said, just one of those moods."

Leah still didn't know what the hell he meant by "those moods", but he didn't appear too concerned about Jacob's state, so she supposed that she shouldn't either.

She turned her attention to Jacob. He seemed content enough, slicing away at whatever meat remained. As if sensing her eyes on him, Jacob stopped chewing, glanced up, shook his massive head, and padded towards her, tail wagging. He ended up stopping a foot away from Leah and laid down at her feet.

Leah _had_ to pet him. "So, what happens now?" she asked, carding her fingers through Jacob's fur. She grinned as Jacob leaned into her touch. "Why did you call me over? You seem to be doing fine."

Embry adverted his gaze, face flushed. "Well, um, I was wondering if you can, uh, chill with for a bit?" He faced Leah, trying to play it cool. "I got a date with Lisa tonight, and…"

Leah's eyes lit up. Oh, wasn't this adorable? Embry Call, Mr. Undercover Ladies' Man, was flustered. "What?" she asked. Her smile turned into a smirk. "Are you telling me that Lisa's not a dog person? That's going to be a big problem when you two decide to get serious, a complete a deal-breaker."

Embry tossed up his hands. "She likes dogs, _thank you_. She even has one. A small ass poodle that doesn't know how to shut up." He crossed his arms, pouting. "Don't see what's the big deal about them…"

"Sounds personal," Leah teased, ignoring Embry's dirty look. "Oh, come on, you can bring her around Jacob. Look, he doesn't bite." To prove her point, she scratched behind Jacob's eyes, resulting in the closest thing to a purr from a canine. She was definitely going to taunt him about this, especially the way he blissfully rolled back his eyes, mouth slack-jawed, revealing his impressive fangs. Oh, right. Fangs—Leah added, "He doesn't bite unless to defend himself or eat."

Embry's expression was deadpanned. "You _cannot_ be serious."

"Not going to happen?"

Embry shook his head.

Leah stopped her ministrations, causing Jacob to whine in protest. "How long are you talking?" she asked. It was already seven in the evening.

"I mean," Embry's bashfulness melted away into something Leah was more used to. He flashed her a devilish smirk. "It kinda depends..."

Leah quickly shot up a hand. "Say no more," she demanded, not wanting to hear about Embry's sex life. "Go on your date, and remember to use protection."

Embry became flustered all over again. "Ew—No!" He jumped back, pointing at Leah. "_No_!"

Leah let a hearty laugh, almost keeling over at the horrified look on Embry's face. Perhaps, she was being immature, but she sure did love teasing the younger man. Even Jacob, wagging his tail and rumbling from deep inside his throat, was amused. "Go on," she said, once the laughter died down. "Have fun. I'll stay behind with him."

Embry clasped his hands, shaking them a few times, "Thank you, thank you, thank you—"

"Leave before I change my mind," Leah threatened half-heartedly. Embry gave her a thumbs up, grabbed his eyes, said a quick goodbye, and rushed out of the door. Fondly shaking her head, she told Jacob, "You sure know how to pick 'em."

Leah quickly texted Sue, informing her mother that she would be back in the morning. After pocketing her phone, she led Jacob to the couch. "Tonight, my friend," she announced, picking up the remote control from the living room table. "I'm going to introduce you to the spectacle known as _Love After Lock Up_."

* * *

The last time, Leah had felt this relaxed what when, back in Vegas?

Leah was lying across Jacob's couch with one hand twisted in the wolf's fur and the other inside a bowl of popcorn. She wasn't doing anything productive, she had to admit, but something was enticing about watching reality TV stars making very questionable decisions. Something relaxing.

She could feel her brainwaves slow down, only speeding up for a moment when she lost hold of Jacob as he padded away to tend to personal matters.

(Which, Leah had to admit, was pretty impressive. A wolf potty-trained? Who would've thought?)

_He needs a bigger place_, Leah mused as she watched him squeeze his large body through the doorway. But she couldn't see why he stayed put. After all, the building owner was well aware of the supernatural. He had made a point to fortify the walls, and the following even applied some sound-proofing. As long as the tenant didn't attract attention, he was good.

Leah set aside the snack bowl. "Come here," she coaxed, holding out her arms. Jacob and his fur had been away from her grasp for far too long. The wolf eventually went to her side, completely receptive to his partner's petting and rubbing of his ears. "You're like a goddamn stress-relief ball," she remarked quite fondly.

It was funny. She would never dare do this when Jacob was on his two feet. Human nature and social convention would only scream, reminding her that no, petting your partner, your friend, in such a matter might cross a line. But now, with Jacob being a wolf, how would she keep her hands to herself? His pelt was too thick, too soft, and he was _so_ warm.

She wondered if he would feel the same if the roles were revised—Leah shoved the thought out of her mind.

Using her free hand, she shoved more popcorn into her mouth.

* * *

"You look well-rested," Leah greeted, teasing Embry the following morning. The younger cop looked anything but as he trudged into the office with an extra-large cup of coffee and wrinkled clothes. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed. "Long night?"

Embry stopped in his tracks to leer at the detective. "We're not talking about this," he declared, pointing a finger. He turned to Jacob, who wasn't paying him any mind. Embry narrowed his eyes. "You're not gonna provide a smartass comment? I know you want to."

Jacob looked up from his prized double-meat breakfast sandwich and lifted an eyebrow. "Besides not appreciating you abandoning me for another? _Nope_."

Leah scoffed into her coffee.

"I did not _abandon_ you," Embry insisted, then added with a wink, "I had places to go, people to _do_." He laughed to himself. "Hey, why do you think I called Leah over?"

Leah rolled her eyes.

Shaking his head, Jacob chuckled, "Whatever you say, man."

"Hey—" Embry stopped when caught sight of the paperwork on Leah's and Jacob's desk. "Vincent Novak, ain't he the public defender? What did he do?"

"He's an arrogant prick."

"We're following a lead provided by Sam," Leah explained, rearranging the mess of papers on the desk in front of her.

"I see Sam's still on his apology tour," Embry remarked, setting aside his belongings. He pointed at the files. "Mind I take a look?" After receiving a nod from the detectives and skimming the information, he returned the reports to Leah and asked, "Was this man's Mike's private lawyer? How did he get away representing in on so many cases and getting his off each time?"

"Well, not each time," Leah corrected. "He did serve a 30-day sentence for disorderly conduct… but yeah, that's what we're trying to figure out."

Jacob nodded. "Plus, we've received a tip that Novak had conversations with Munson, the inmate went away from life without parole, exhausted all of his appeals and most likely, Mike's killer."

"If he has no more appeals left, then why does he need a chat with a lawyer?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Leah said to Embry. "Novak didn't reveal much during our last conversation except that he made himself look suspicion. He was on the defensive the entire time."

"So, he knows something," Embry concluded. "Paul knows about this?"

Jacob leaned back his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "Yep."

"What about Jenks?"

"He's a bit cautious," Leah said. She couldn't blame the man. "He doesn't have the greatest relationship with Novak, and doesn't want that fact to bite him in the ass."

* * *

"I'll have you know that I am well aware of the federal investigation into my client's financials," said Rosalie as she approached the detectives sitting inside her office. "Mrs. Sonja DuPont is quite some trouble, isn't she?"

Leah wasn't too surprised by the news. Rosalie had connections everywhere; someone could have given her a heads-up about the impending arrest warrant. The question was if she notified Heidi of it? As of this morning, Heidi was still living her life.

"Then why make a deal with us?" Jacob asked, seemingly reading Leah's mind. "Once the feds get their hands on her, there's nothing we can do."

Leah waited for a response.

Rosalie sat down behind her desk. "It's better to get attacked on one front than two."

"What makes you think we have her?" Leah asked.

The question was rhetorical.

"You wouldn't have come here, ready to strike a deal if you hadn't," "I'd like to think I'm great at what I do, but I know I can't win them all."

"Mitigating the damage," Jacob remarked.

"Half the battle," Rosalie said, and then, "Vincent Novak…" She rubbed her chin. "He used to work for me. For a couple of years on an informal basis."

"I thought you didn't know Novak?"

"I didn't make an effort to learn much about his private life," Rosalie clarified, folding her hands over of a low pile of papers. "I believe I've mentioned to you that my association with Novak was strictly professional, Detective Clearwater."

She did.

"Why didn't you make an effort?" Jacob asked, ready to shoot down any lie and excuse Rosalie would come up with.

Instead of answering, Rosalie handed each detective a copy of Vincent Novak's curriculum vitae, the version not found on the Cook County Court's webpage. "I know who he is," she said, "Where he's from. His ambitions. I know his entire plan: follow in his father's footsteps by becoming a lawyer for the mob. A very lucrative business. Those figures would do anything to stay out of prison, especially Alcatraz."

"His father," Leah flipped back a few pages in her notepad. "Walter Novak."

Another character.

"Both men, so similar yet so different," Rosalie mused. "Novak wants the notoriety. His father only wants money and protection."

Leah nodded, jotting down the information. So, in other words, Vincent was the foolish one. He was one of those people, the roads. The ones who always wanted to be around the rich, famous, and dangerous just because… it made them seem more important than they really were—Walter Novak was historically more low-key than his son, but garnered more respect.

She wondered if Vincent knew or even cared.

Before Rosalie could continue, Jacob, eyeing her with suspicion, asked, "Why are you doing this?"

An excellent question.

Rosalie brought a hand to her chest. "Excuse me?"

"Why are you doing this?" Jacob asked again, then elaborated. "I know we're unofficially letting Mrs. DuPont off the hook, but you've just given us enough ammunition to request an arrest warrant on Novak, and I'm pretty sure after this, the feds are going to want to look into him—Why now?"

"Because he owes me ten thousand dollars," Rosalie revealed. "I'm sure you are aware of a particular deal brokered between Gianna Castellano and the Cullens, yes? Where do you think the ten-grand came from?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. This, she hadn't expected, and from the way Jacob's heart skipped a beat, he hadn't either. "He brokered the deal?" she asked, wanting to make sure she had correctly interpreted Rosalie's words.

"Everyone knows that a lawyer should be present during contract negotiations."

"Why didn't the Cullens use their own money?" Jacob asked.

"It's a long story, involving a foolish rule," Rosalie said. "In the end, Novak didn't have the time at the time. Something about his stocks not doing too well. I felt bad. I did have a soft spot for him at one time, so I gave him a loan. He told me he'd have it paid by the end of last year."

"On the books, he's only a public defender," Rosalie said. "Off the books, for several yes, he's been writing contractors for the majority of the deals stricken between the mob and civil serves, including, the now-disgraced, Calvin Sorio."

Leah and Jacob exchanged a glance before writing down the relevant information.

"Jenks couldn't tell you any of this?" Rosalie said after a moment of silence, and then with a curt nod, "No, it wouldn't have done him any good. A prosecutor working with cops to take down a public defender? Not worth the hassle or scrutiny. Most likely would be considered a conflict of interest… but, this was a good case he referred to you. I know of it very well."

"The media sure didn't," Jacob remarked.

Rosalie wasn't surprised. "The case wasn't sexy enough. It wasn't Dahlia-enough, not even Gianna-enough. The press loves blood and drama. Missing people, sordid affairs, especially when it concerns the wealthy… not the sexual assault for a prostitute. It's unfortunate, but it's reality."

"Not even the victim conveniently disappears before trial?" Leah argued.

"Evidently not," Rosalie responded. "Mia Rambova worked for… I'm sure you already know."

"Your client keeps very detailed invoices," Leah said. "Novak verified everything for us."

"Paper trails always come back to bite…" Rosalie trailed off, shaking her head. "Mike Newton was a frequent customer of Mrs. DuPont's business. He used to be close with Alistair, but then Alistair became spooked, I supposed, after the Saint Patrick's debacle. Now, he'll work with everyone, refuses to pledge allegiance."

Jacob snorted. "One of the few people with some common said," he remarked. "Smart man."

"How did Novak get involved in that mess?" Leah asked, and then rephrased, "How was he conveniently assigned to represent Newton so many times? He's a public defender."

"He pulled some strings," Rosalie said. "Certainly not the first lawyer to do so."

"Why did Novak want to get involved in Mike's drama," Jacob asked. "Did he get paid off?"

"Not by Newton," Rosalie said. "Newton wouldn't have the funds for a bribe. He barely had enough to hire Shapiro."

"Where did he get the money?" Leah asked.

Rosalie smirked. "Where do you think?"

Leah rolled her eyes as Jacob grumbled, "So, you're not going to give us a name, Hale?"

"Why?" Rosalie questioned, expression turning annoyed. "I don't believe in shooting myself in the foot. If anyone asked, I could simply say you've made an assumption."

Leah huffed as Jacob emitted a humorless chuckle. "A classic CYA move," he said.

Rosalie flipped back her shoulder-length straight blond hair, flashing a devilish grin. "One of my many specialties, Detective."

Leah couldn't dispute that.

Sensing the conversation reaching its end, Leah slapped her armrests and rose from her seat with Jacob following suit. "Thank you," she told Rosalie. "For taking time out of your schooled to work with us. We appreciate the information you've provided us."

"Of course," Rosalie said, leaning back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers. She sat back up. "Mia Rambova is still alive," she casually informed the detectives.

Jacob nearly choked on his gum. "What?"

"How do you know?" Leah asked, equally taken aback.

Rosalie dropped her pen, sat up in her chair, and folded her hands on the desk. "Because I arranged her escape to France. If she had testified against Newton, then she and her daughter would've been killed on the spot." She paused. "She was a wonderful person, a sweetheart, caught in a situation beyond her control. Trafficking, it's such a horrible..." She sighed. "Mike didn't deserve that fate."

Leah fought a small smile as she slowly sat back down. It appeared that Rosalie had a heart, after all. "We do have a witness protection program, you know."

"Witness protection wouldn't save her. Not in this case."

"Did Novak know about Mia's departure?" Jacob asked.

"Of course, not. Why should he?" Rosalie shrugged. "I'm sure he figured someone got to her, and that was why she didn't show up. Who am I to tell him otherwise?"

"Mike could've gone to prison—"

"For how long?" Rosalie challenged Leah. "Sexual assault does not amount to much in sentencing. Plus, with Sorio presiding over the entire thing, and Mia being a prostitute?" She shook her head. "Two years, max."

Leah frowned.

_Shit_. Rosalie had a point.

"Where's the proof?" Jacob asked. "Of everything?"

"Proof?" Rosalie pulled back, seemingly puzzled by the question. "Did you not listen to me? I've been speaking for the last half an hour."

"With all due respect, Miss Hale, we can't only rely on your words," Jacob said. "We need something concrete. Novak thinks he's going to be this thing, and that's not going to happen. So, we need _something_."

"Oh," Rosalie said, nodding as the realization came to her. "You need a justification for a warrant."

"That would be nice," Leah said.

Rosalie nodded a couple of more times. "There's not much I can give you besides my word," she said, leaning in. Her sights focused on Jacob. "Novak had some dealings with a particular Fangs-associated waste removal company, formally run by the now wisely-retired Jack Wilson." She raised an eyebrow. "Now, if I recall correctly, you know him."

Leah cleared her throat, stealing Jacob a glance.

"Yeah, about it about it?" Jacob asked roughly, staring down at the fixer through narrowed eyes. Something was up the vampire's sleeve.

"If I know the man as much as I believe I do, then I am sure he keeps records of his clients," Rosalie said. "Particularly those who believe they can get away with nonpayment- damaging information. For collateral." She snapped his fingers. "There, detectives, is where you should find your admissible evidence."

"Are you only telling us this information, all for _ten thousand dollars_?" Leah wondered.

Ten grand was a decent amount of change, no doubt about it. However, it still made Leah curious about Rosalie's willingness to spill the beans. Sure, the fixer didn't like Novak, but there were unwritten rules about handling uncooperative lawyers. This wasn't it.

"It's not the amount, it's the _principle_," Rosalie stressed. Her devilish grin returned. "Plus, do you know what would be satisfying? Seeing a man pumped with hubris collapse under all of his bullshit, and not being able to a damn thing about it."

* * *

"No hath fury like a woman scorned."

Leah smiled into her cup of tea. "That's not how it goes," she reminded her captain as she placed her drink on the floor beside her. She let out a light chuckle at the sight of Paul rolling his eyes. He wasn't mad, put off, or anything—quite the opposite. Leah's grin turned into a smirk. "Good stuff, huh?"

Her gamble with Rosalie seemed to be paying off, not that she would declare victory just yet.

"Amazing," Paul agreed with his patented shit-eating grin. This was probably the giddiest Leah had ever seen the captain when it came to work, especially before 8:00 am. Eventually, Paul's smile faded when he asked Jacob, "How did Miss Hale know about your folks?"

Jacob shrugged. "It's not much of a secret."

"Well, I guess you're right," Paul said, flipping through the detectives' notes. "Good thing, people are still honoring that little your dad made." He scoffed. "Who would've thought?"

"It's what happens when you don't screw people for a living," was Jacob's cheeky response. "Unlike our friend, Novak."

"He's in some shit, ain't he

?" Paul shook his head. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "You're going to talk to Wilson, Black?"

"Already made the arrangements."

"Good. Now, if Wilson's info is damaging enough, we may be able to knock that price's ego down a peg and finally, get to the bottom of Mike's so-called suicide."

"That's the plan."

* * *

"Thanks for this, old man," Jacob told Wilson later that week as he waved the envelope in his hand. Inside the package was a letter dated from May 2018, detailing arrangements made between the Denalis and the waste management group regarding the disposal of "traitor". All reviewed and signed by Novak. With his signature and with a bloodied thumbprint. Damning evidence, indeed. "We appreciate this."

"We and the CPD," Leah added.

As expected, Wilson snorted at the mention of the Chicago Police Department. "This has nothing do with that organization," he reminded the detectives. "And everything to do with getting the ball rolling before I drop dead. I'm getting sick and tired of your investigation."

"You and us, both, old man," Jacob agreed. "You and us, both."

"You sure this doesn't violate your terms with Novak?" Leah asked. She might not know the man on a personal level, but beneath all of his "former" affiliations, he seemed like a decent man trying to enjoy his retirement. "After all, there's a strict no-law-enforcement-involvement policy."

"Novak can go fuck himself for all I care," Wilson spat, literally spitting on the floor. "Cut from the same cloth as that imprisoned judge. I _hope_ he suffers the same fate."

Leah cleared her throat. She definitely hadn't expected such a passionate response.

Neither had Jacob.

"You don't want him dead?" Jacob asked.

Leah was just as shocked.

"Death would only end the suffering," Wilson said, leaving no room for dissent. "Now, what good would _that_ do?"

Not a damn thing.


	22. Chapter 21

**Twenty-One**

* * *

"How's work?"

Work was _work_.

Busy, certainly never dull, but definitely tiring. Her proposed trip to L.A. couldn't come soon enough.

"Just the usual."

"Any close calls?"

Leah shook her head. "Haven't one of those in ages, actually… Try not to jinx it."

Murad nodded with sympathy. Despite never being in law enforcement, Murad understood where Leah was coming from. She had served a brief stint in the military many years ago, she had admitted to Leah. It wasn't for her, she had said with a bitter laugh. "It's not fun," she remarked.

"No, it's not. It's fucking stressful. As if we don't have anything else to deal with, we now have to make sure that perps don't escape, kill anyone, or be killed. I mean, I guess it's nothing like being in a war, but you know…"

"It's close enough—How many shootouts have you been involved in?"

"Several, but nothing like what I had dealt with last year."

"Why have things calmed down since then?"

"I wouldn't say they've _calmed down_. We've had witnesses threatened, killed, or forced into protection. It seems that every single time I turn around, there's another crazy-ass twist. I can't even keep count on how many suspects we have now, and that's only the ones still alive…"

"Thank goodness you took a vacation."

Leah's smile was small but sincere. Vegas had been wonderful. "I'm already looking into flights to Los Angeles."

"When you plan on going?"

"I was thinking in the Fall, but…" Leah shrugged. Hopefully, everything at work would relatively calm down by that point. "I don't know."

"Solo trip?"

"No, I'm dragging Jacob along."

"How is he?"

Leah tensed, then relaxed. "_Fine_. He's just him."

Her answer was short and sweet. Short and sweet was easy, sage. She wouldn't have the time to overthink, to dig deeper and finally confront what she was doing so damn good at ignoring. Leah was happy with her response, but she doubted, no, knew, Murad wasn't. Murad never shied from expressing her frustration with Leah's tendency to gloss over the hard topics; it defeated the purpose of having these sessions. Thankfully, at least for the time being, Murad wasn't going to call Leah out.

"And your family?"

"Good. Mom's good. Seth's a pain in my ass, but I figure that's never going to change—he's good, too. He'll be a cop by the end of this year." Leah paused. She still couldn't imagine Seth being on the force, but apparently, he was passing with flying colors. Her little brother—she was happy for him. "Wants to be a detective."

"Just like his older sister," Murad said with a smile, then, "You're worried about him."

"Of course, I am. This job isn't some walk in the park."

"Most jobs aren't."

"Well, most jobs don't include chasing around bad guys while carrying."

"Why are you still a cop?"

"Because I have a thing for toxic relationships," Leah grumbled, crossing her arms. "Love-hate gets me going."

Murad raised an eyebrow, but she didn't delve into the other woman's comment. Instead, she wrote down some notes and remarked, "I'm sure your brother will be fine."

Leah dropped her arms. "_I know_. It's just like he sees life through rose-colored glasses."

"That's not always a bad thing. Naivety can be positive. Sometimes being too cynical is debilitating. It makes you complicit, lose your drive. It also makes you miss the good things in life—like, for instance, getting a criminal off the streets, people thanking you for your hard work."

Leah's gaze fell on her lap.

She hadn't thought about that.

"He'll be fine," Murad promised, then, "How is everything going with your ex-husband and your cousin?"

Leah ran a hand down her face. Talking about Sam and Emily was always a struggle and never positive. "Haven't heard a peer from them in a while," she said, but then, "Not true, I've heard from Sam but only on work-related matters… He's surprisingly been helpful as of late. Gave some of damn good leads." She huffed. "People at work think he's trying to apologize to me."

"And what do you think?"

Honestly, Leah hadn't thought about it. It was a nice gesture, definitely needed, but what was the man expecting from her? _Forgiveness_? For her to forget? She hoped Sam didn't have his hopes too high.

"Is it bad to say that I don't care?" Leah slowly replied. The question left an odd taste in her mouth. Before last year, she would have never considered _not_ caring about the man. But now? Sure, she didn't want him six-feet-under, but she had far better things to worry about than a man who had lied to her for all those years.

"No."

"Though, I guess all of his efforts are making me hate him less," Leah muttered. The pure hatred was no longer there, and therefore she could confidently say. "See him more as a fellow cop than an ex-husband."

"That's progress."

Leah smiled, feeling triumphant. She was moving on, and this wasn't something she imagined. Murad sensed it as well. "Yes, it is."

* * *

"You think this is going to work?" Leah asked as she finished the last of her tea and placed the cup the empty cup holder. Pressing the back of her head against the headrest, she shut her eyes with hopes of gaining some energy in the next couple of minutes until they reached their destination. She had a long night. Another run at Sag Valley, another night with only three hours of sleep.

"Are you serious?" Jacob scoffed as he made a right turn. "He's gonna crawl up into a ball when he sees the letter. Don't worry, Leah, he's going to talk."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Because we're extorting him?"

"Because if he doesn't, he's gonna end up like Gianna," Jacob said as he drove into the parking lot outside of the Law Offices of the Public Defender. The visit was unscheduled. The detectives didn't want to give Novak the chance to prepare for the ensuing bombshell.

"What are you talking about?" Leah slightly lifted her head. "Wilson says he doesn't want him dead."

"It's not him I'm worried about. Novak worked on Sorio's behalf, right? Who worked on behalf of the Olympic coven and the Velasquez cartel. What do you think will happen when they find out about this? When he gets arrested?"

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose. "This shit's crazy."

"Esme wants the family business to be as legitimate as possible." He stopped to smile at his luck. Finding a suitable parking spot at 10:00 am was nothing short of divine intervention. He quickly pulled into the space. "If I were her," he continued, "I wouldn't want this looming around. Especially since Novak named dropped her favorite adoptive son."

"Killing Novak would bring unwanted attention," Leah said, unbuckling her seat belt. "I can't believe it—The amount of people who want the man dead, and he's still walking around like he's untouchable."

"That's hubris for you."

* * *

Novak read over the letter for the umpteenth time. It was bad. He knew it; he knew the detectives knew it. He tried not to display any sign of weakness, but he still managed to look meek under his expression, and well-tailored suit. He cursed under his breath and then tossed page the aside.

Leah hid her satisfied grin.

Jacob didn't bother trying.

There was no need for a retort, for a defensive word-vomit or a tantrum—despite the numerous glances at this office door, the soon-to-be disgraced knew he had his hands tied. He was trapped.

Novak let out a defeated sigh and tightly folded his hands. "What the hell do you want?"

Leah picked up the letter from the edge of Novak's desk and returned it to the folder. Jacob slightly relaxed in his seat, most likely feeling that he and Leah had everything in the bag already. To an extent, they did. But now, they needed to hear the truth from Novak; they needed him to digest the repercussions for his actions. Fully.

"How do you know Munson?" Jacob asked, following a tense moment of silence, then added, "And please don't tell us you've never heard of the guy."

Novak straightened up in his seat.

Leah could sense the desire to deny (and deny) rolling off of Novak despite Jacob's words. "We have proof stating otherwise," Leah warned.

For a moment, it appeared Novak had every intention of fighting the detectives' claims, but then he slumped against his chair, dropping his arms to his sides. He swallowed. "He's a client," he confessed.

"For what?" Jacob asked. "He's been sentenced to life without parole. All of his appeals dried up. He's not getting out of Cook County unless inside a body bag."

Frustration crossed Novak's face, and then concern. His gaze dropped to his desk. "I don't have to answer this—"

Leah cut him off. "Unless you want to share the same fate as your friend, Sorio, then we suggest you do."

Jacob lifted an eyebrow. "Well?"

Novak deeply breathed and muttered a curse under his breath. "It was for his own sake," he said. "What he had endured would've paled in comparison to what would have happened when they got their hands on him. Quick deaths aren't their forte."

"Whose forte?" Leah asked.

Novak lifted his gaze, eyes widening in alarm, probably due to his last comment. He had said too much—The lawyer cleared his throat a couple of times, adjusted his tie, and his cufflinks. He tried to regain his usual confidence, but it ended up collapsing. Just like his luck. He was fucked; the question was now by how much."

"_Shit_," Novak said under his breath.

Leah decided to switch gears. "What happened to Mike Newton?"

"I don't know."

Leah narrowed her eyes.

"_Novak_," Jacob warned.

Novak didn't respond. His attention solely on the desk he was sitting behind—The detectives exchanged a quick glance before Jacob asked again, this time more stern, "Vincent Novak, who ordered the hit?"

Novak dropped his head. "I can't."

Jacob frowned.

Someone was holding a proverbial gun to his head.

Shit. _Of course_. If he talked, it could be all over for him. Maybe the police could work with him, offer him some protection. Some reprieve. But looking at the man, he did look scared, absolutely defeated. But—they couldn't leave the office empty-handed. They had promised their captain an answer. Just a name, that was all they needed.

Jacob leaned forward, relaxing his features. "Listen, Novak, all you have to do is talk to us. That's it," he stressed. "We're not even going to arrest you."

He was right—Once the higher powers found out about Novak's liaison, they would most likely push the case into the feds' arms. As much as they didn't want to admit it, persecuting Novak in Cook County wouldn't be too much of a headache, too political.

Jacob's words didn't work on the public defender, who, slumped in his chair, was shaking his head feverishly. Gone was the hotshot lawyer, now replaced by a dejected soul. "I can't— They'll kill of them," he cried, clenching the edge of his desk. "My wife, my kids, my parents… I can't. I can't help you."

"What if we can give you and your family protection?" Leah offered. "Your words can help us put away the same people who are threatening you."

"You can't do anything," Novak choked out. "_Nothing_."

Maybe this was what Rosalie was talking about, Leah mused, seeing a man with so much pride just _break down_. Admittedly, Leah didn't like the public defender, but she did pity him. So, did Jacob, watching Novak press his hands against his palms and from the faint whiff of silently crying.

"What if we can?" he offered carefully, sharing a quick look with Leah. "Make sure your protection. You're going to need it, even if this conversation never happened. One of these days, they're going to find out about the money. And the investigation… it's slow-moving, but we're catching people."

Novak slowly lifted his head and looked at the detectives. His tear-brimmed eyes widened with a sliver of hope. He sniffled a few times, ran his inner wrist across his eyes. "S-so," he gulped. "I'm done for either way?"

The detectives nodded.

"It's not only the gangs you have to worry about," Jacob carried on. "Your former employer isn't too thrilled with your decision not to pay her."

Novak cursed under his breath. "_Rosalie_."

"She's not going to stop. Not until she thinks she has to."

"Then, what good would getting protection be?"

"Rosalie isn't after your family," Leah said. "She's only after you. She won't lay a finger on your wife, your children. There will be no hit. But the gangs? They don't give a shit. They'll go after _everyone_, even your father—"

"He was a friend of the family," Novak declared. "They'd never—"

"Don't be naïve," Jacob said. "You know what means squad when it comes to business."

"So, I have to talk," Novak concluded. He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something more, but then dropped his heads into his hands once more. He screamed into them.

"You should," Leah advised, watching Novak as he tossed his head back. "You don't have to do anything, but it'll make the blow hurt less."

Silence fell between them. The detectives kept a keen eye on the public defender as he alternated between wallowing and cursing. It was only a matter of time, Leah figured.

Jacob stretched the collar of his shirt and shared a concerned look with Leah. They had to do something before the man broke down. They had to talk the man off the ledge before he did something stupid like literally jump off one. The window behind him was open, only protected by a screen. If he wanted, he could jump and not survive the four-story fall.

Leah rose from her seat and carefully walked around the desk. She stood a couple of feet away from the public defender, looking down at the sulking, conflicted man. "Give us a name…" she implored gently, kneeling on one knee. "And we will help you out."

He eventually gave them a name: Edward Masen.

Just as Leah had suspected.

The meeting was over. The detectives got what they wanted while Novak, poor Novak, just sat there in his seat, broken, undoubtedly contemplating his next work.

Leah rose from her seat. "Thank you very much, Mr. Novak, for taking the time to meet is with us." He held out a hand, anticipating the customary handshake. Novak wouldn't give her one; it was fine. Expected. Forcing a polite smile, she continued, "We'll keep in touch," and then, "A little word of advice: get a damn good lawyer."

"And stay out of the limelight," Jacob added.

Novak did not respond.

* * *

"Novak's married to a high school science teacher," Jacob informed later, reading off his work phone as they walked to their parked car. "Has two kids. Both boys, ages five and eight."

"How did you get his family information so quickly?"

"Asked Jared for it while Novak had his little breakdown," Jacob explained. "I may not like the man, but his family doesn't deserve this. Maybe the wife knows about Novak's dealings, but the kids?" He shook his head. "They don't deserve this shit."

Leah agreed with Jacob, but until an agreement was reached while in the presence of Novak's lawyer, there wasn't much they could do. Witness protection was a quid-pro-quo arrangement. "We have to speak to Paul," she said.

* * *

"I know how you feel about witness protection for criminals, but is there any way we can guarantee someone taking a stand without fearing the life of themselves and their families?"

Paul leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You got to Novak," he realized, and then with a smirk, "What did he say? Who did he snitch on?"

"Edward Masen, the dead of the Olympic Coven," Leah told her captain. "According to Novak, he was the one who put a hit on Mike after the whole Lauren Mallory debacle. Novak was ordered to make a deal with someone inside Cook County Jail—He's worried about his life, his family… he's angered quite a few people. From all fronts."

"We told him that he should stay low and get a lawyer," Jacob added.

"That's what happens when he tries to be his father…" Paul said, shaking his head, then, "I'm going to have a chat with Barba and see what her office can do for Novak. Make sure he and his family are safe."

The detectives exchanged alarmed looks.

"Paul, what are you—"

"We can't provide Novak that much protection, but the feds can," Paul explained. "Mike was tied to criminal cases, as well and now, he's dead. The feds are going to want to talk Novak about his dealings with Mike." He slapped his desk. "Listen, we can't let him get killed. It doesn't matter what Wilson says, the moment the news of Novak's involvement hits the airwaves, it's going to be a real-life _Smokin' Aces_—seen that movie?"

Leah and Jacob nodded. It was a movie, released some time ago, about assassins unleashing hell in Vegas to kill a federal witness. It was a mess, a complete bloodbath, and something Chicago didn't need.

"Hopefully, the feds can get him out of there," Paul said. "Do you think he'll cooperate? I know he's big in the head."

"You should've seen him," Leah said. "It was a complete one-eighty."

"He knows he's screwed either way," Jacob added. "But we can find any way _not_ to contribute to this city's murder rate, that would be ideal."

Paul leaned further back in his seat, dragging the desk phone with him. "I'll give you an answer by the end of the day."

* * *

"I owe you dinner next week, don't I? How about that Thursday after work?"

"No can do," Leah said, glancing her desk calendar. Damn it; she was looking forward to another steak dinner (Jacob was still sticking to his peace offering of free food and coffee). "I'm meeting with Jane that night."

Jacob leaned back in his seat, smirking, "_Ah, right_. I forgot your relationship with her is still going strong." He laughed. "Not gonna lie, I'd thought you two would've gotten tired of each other already and start seeing other people."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Shut up—Shall I call you when I'm done?"

"Yes, and when you get home. Just in case someone wants to follow you, shoot you or whatnot."

"I can take care of myself, thank you."

"The fact that you're no longer human suggests otherwise," Jacob pointed out, wiggling his eyebrows, mocking the other woman until he was hit in the arm by with pen. Of course, the action didn't hurt, but that didn't mean his expression was pained. Whether it was serious or not was another story. "Hey, violence ain't the answer!"

"Sometimes, it is," Leah said without any remorse for her actions. "And when are you going to stop mentioning that night? I had a lapse of judgment. I know that." Based on the amused look on Jacob's face, it seemed anytime soon. She gave him the finger. "I don't know why I deal with you sometimes…"

That earned a hearty laugh.

Jacob smirked. "Oh, come on, Clearwater, you know your life would be boring without," and then, expression softening, "I'm glad you're still alive, Leah." He raised an empty cup. "Just keep it that way, will ya?" He let out a dramatic sigh. "Look, if I gotta save you, I'll do it in a blink of an eyebrow because _duh_, but I ain't gonna be happy about it."

"Such sweet words," Leah snorted. She felt the same way, not that she was going to say so; she didn't want to egg Jacob on. "Raincheck for Friday night?"

"Fine by me," Jacob said, then groaned at the infuriating sound of the ringing desk. "Damn it."

"It's a necessary evil," Leah remarked.

Jacob waved her off. "I know." He picked up the phone, exchanged the usual greetings with the other on the other line. Jacob quickly relaxed in his seat. It was his old friend from the Cicero Police Department. "What you got for me, Milano?" He jotted down some notes, stopping briefly, lifting an eyebrow. "Really?" He snapped his fingers, getting Leah's attention. He held up the Post-It. "Uh, huh… wait, seriously? Madagascar? What did TSA say?"

Leah scanned the note, expression puzzled.

Jacob shrugged and carried on, "So, she hadn't left the country since '17. Not gonna lie, find that hard to believe given who she worked for…" Jacob ran the back of his hand across his forehead. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know she was only a receptionist…"

"VPN?" mouthed Leah.

A virtual private network could explain Madagascar.

Jacob nodded, then spoke into the phone, "She submitted her two-week notice at Napolitano's?" His eyebrows drew together. "Did she give a reason—Oh, she was _asked_ to resign."

Leah couldn't recall any mention of a resignation. If Gianna was encouraged to resign, then why the two-week notice? She could've simply been walked out, and that was that.

Jacob coughed.

"Wait, _what_?" His eyes widened. "Are you telling me that they have access to their employee's finances? _Is that even legal_?"

He looked up at Leah for input.

She didn't have one. It was probably in the sea of gray areas unless the Volturi had a contact inside the banking world, and therefore was able to receive their employees' bank transactions. Which, as she thought about it, wasn't too far-fetch.

Leah shook her head.

Jacob shrugged and listened on, "It was because of that ten-grand," he realized, slapping his forehead. "Yeah, I forgot banks flag deposits starting at that amount…"

Leah made a note of that comment. A random ten-grand deposit—yes, that would definitely get the bank's attention. She made another note about the Volturi who must've gotten wind of the deposit, deemed like suspicious... and then, everyone had gone downhill from there.

"Yeah, thanks, man," Jacob said. "We appreciate all the help. This case's kicking our asses… Yeah, I'll let you know when we get someone on our end." He scribbled some notes on another Post-It. "Alright, thanks, man. Give Marissa my regards… Alright, yeah, have a good day, as well."

"Marissa?" Leah inquired when Jacob hung up the phone.

"His wife," Jacob explained. He flipped through his notes. "There Volturi are some shady people. They keep tabs on every person employed at that agency, even the cleaning staff. Know their medical records, financial records. _Everything_."

"I'm surprised they hadn't gone after Gianna's family," Leah said. "But then again, it appears that Gianna made sure her parents stayed in the dark."

"The smartest thing she had done yet," Jacob said. "So, it seems that all of the computers and networks at Napolitano's have VPNs set in different countries."

"Which explains Madagascar."

"Yes." Jacob's nose wrinkled. "The two-week notice is interesting…"

"Usually, when you get the pink slip, you're out that very day."

"But they let her resign."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You sure she resigned?"

"It could've been a class CYA move."

"It could've," Leah agreed. "Arrange everything to look like Gianna had intended to leave Napolitano's and the area. Therefore, if, well, _when_ she disappears, it doesn't look suspicious." She brought a hand to her chin. "Though, if that's the case, then why dispose of her at the landfill? They could've cremated her to dump in her the lake."

"They were trying to prove a point."

"To whom?" Leah asked. "Us? Anyone else? It wasn't an accident that she was left at the landfill. Didn't Wilson say that his boys were paid to move her?"

Jacob nodded. "Maybe they wanted to send a message to the Cullen's? Let them know what happens when someone plays on both teams. They could've tasked Demetri to do the job, following his date with Jessica. Can't see why anyone would want to get involved."

"And Wilson won't tell us who contracted the move..." Leah mumbled, and then, "But maybe Novak can. After all, he brokers deals."

* * *

So, it turned out, as the detectives would find out later that week, Novak had nothing to do with the contract on Gianna's life and final (temporary) resting place. He never once worked for the Volturi, only on behalf of the Olympic coven.

"Another dead end," Jacob grumbled, tapping his forehead on the steering wheel. "So close, yet so far..."

"We need the Volturi back."

Jacob rolled his eyes at the obvious statement. "Well, they're currently enjoying themselves in Moldova- Jane told you anything new?"

"Nothing concrete," Leah admitted. "Besides being disposed of, being in over her head. Not worth turning into a vampire." She shrugged. "You know, the usual. I should get more info next week when I speak to Jane face-to-face."

"So, since Novak wasn't involved with Gianna's mess, then there has to be another middle-man, right? Someone to make sure there was an enforceable contract between the two parties."

"Murder contracts aren't enforceable under the law," Leah reminded Jacob, teasing him with a wink, "I thought you knew that?" She shared an amused smile before turning serious, "Let's head back to the station before Paul gets all dramatic and sends a search party."

* * *

"Sorry for calling in both in right before you were about to head out, but I have an update on our lovely friend, Vincent Novak," Paul said, motioning both Leah and Jacob to enter his desk and take a seat. "First, he wised up and got a lawyer, Walter Novak."

Leah exchanged a knowing look with Jacob before sitting down. "As expected," she said.

Jacob leaned back in his seat. "And?"

"Earlier this afternoon, Novak pled guilty on a slew of political corruption charges," Paul said. "Word on the street is that he took his talents across state lines. As of right now, he's looking at doing five in federal prison with parole after two."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"There was no trial," Paul pointed out.

"That bastard actually took a plea," Jacob said, amazed but disappointed. It would've been almost poetic to see Novak sitting on the other side of a trial. "How bad could it have been?"

"Ten to fifteen, at least."

"They're using him for information," Leah realized.

Paul confirmed with a nod. "Barba has bigger fish to fry."

"What about witness protection?"

"They're working on it. Barba has her little minions all over this case. Apparently, she's also not too thrilled about Mike Newton's fate."

"What did Jenks say?" Leah asked.

"Recused himself. Didn't want to get involved in anything Novak-related," Paul explained. "But I'm sure he's pleased about Mike's case finally closing."

"Pleased? He lost his chance for a prosecution," Jacob argued. "He had Lauren's case in the bag."

Paul shrugged. "Shit happens."

Leah doubted Jenks felt the same way.

"So, is Mike's case considered done?" she asked.

"It's in Cook County's and the feds' hands. So yeah, I'd say it's pretty much done," Paul decided. He let out a sigh of relief. "Fucking finally."

Fucking finally, indeed.

"And Edward?"

"He's the feds' problem," Paul declared, slamming a hand hard on the desk. "They'll probably unless RICO Hell on him or intimidating and ordering a hit on a state and federal witness."

"I can't see how Edward didn't order Mike to silence Lauren," Leah added, exchanging a glance with Jacob; he seemed to agree with her. "He practically told the man that it was his fault for rescuing her, his fault for her refusing to cash on in the bride, his fault for her running to us with open arms."

"We saw that coming from miles away, but she didn't want the protection," Paul said. "Not to blame the victim, but her actions didn't exactly help her cause."

Lauren Mallory's fatal mistake was that she had been far too trusting of Mike Newton. No one in their right mind trusted Mike Newton.

"What's done is done," Jacob said. "So..." he trailed off, deeply exhaling. "Is Mike done for real?"

"Yeah, he's done."

* * *

"Seems like an end of an era," Aisha breathed out, looking on with a bunch of coworkers as Jacob crossed off Mike Newton's name from the investigation board. "About damn time, I guess."

"It wasn't the best result," Leah admitted. She took a long sip of green tea, and added, "But at least, someone's going to jail."

"What about Munson?"

"Getting charged as well. Can't go around, killing off inmates. The warden wouldn't appreciate that..." Leah pulled out her phone to check the time. 9:45 in the morning. Six hours until she was off work- it was just one of those days. She pocketed the phone. "He had a good reason to accept doing the hit, but still..."

"What about his child's illness and the donations?"

"No one's touching that."

What were the state and the feds going to do? Seize the donation for the treatment of an ailing child? In a rare moment of compassion for the man who had negatively impacted a major case, Barba had completely tabled the idea.

"Oh, good."


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

* * *

"You know, there was a time when I thought Edward was the smart one," Aisha remarked one night during a reality show binge at her place. She stuffed her face with more fries, and after swallowing the food down, "That was why Carlisle had made him deputy, had named him his successor. Because he was smart."

Edward was smart; he just made a stupid move.

They all did it. Hence why there was in prison.

Leah stole her friend a glance before taking a large bite out of her burger. "Are you suggest that he's not?" she carefully after."

"Putting a hit on Mike in prison. A federal _and_ state witness. Did he honestly think he was going to get away with this?"

All criminals did. That was why they committed the crimes.

"He could've if we hadn't learned about Novak or Munson."

"I don't know." Aisha shrugged. "Maybe it's just me being too critical or giving those fools too much credit."

"It's bothering you."

Aisha's eyes met Leah's. "But not you?"

"Unfortunately, I have more pressing matters to attend to the unsolved murders of Jessica and Gianna," Leah said. "Mike's case is closed. It's in the feds' hands now."

Aisha snorted. "How long do you think that's going to last?"

"Probably a month," Leah said. That actually might be too generous. "And then, another bombshell will drop. Hey, maybe we'll find out something crazy like Mike having an affair with Demetri. Or Esme." She smirked. "Or _both_."

Aisha let out a hearty laugh. "To tell you the truth, I wouldn't be surprised."

* * *

"Mike sleeping with Demetri _and_ Esme?" Jacob laughed, shaking his head as he and Leah gathered their belongings. Soon, they would head out of the station, hop into their car, and follow some leads in the South Side. "Goddamn, this case's turning into those telenovelas Rebecca's obsessed with."

"Isn't it one already?" Leah asked with a low chuckle. Telenovelas, soap operas, serial- she used to think their storylines were too dramatic to be real. Her experiences during the last couple of years had undoubtedly proven her wrong. "Come on, would you be surprised?"

"Honestly, no, but I just can't see it, though." Jacob scrunched his face in disgust. "I mean, yes, Demetri would screw anything that moves, but I'd like to think Esme has standards."

"Mike wasn't bad-looking."

"He was a sleaze."

"So, was Carlisle."

"Touché… I wonder if anyone would follow up on his convenient death?"

"Official story is that he had succumbed to his wounds," Leah said. "Which is plausible since he had a few UV's pumped into him. UV's are vampire kryptonite."

"Do you believe that BS story?"

No.

"The _unofficial_ story is that Esme decided to put him out of his misery. Which also is plausible. Carlisle was slipping, making questionable decisions..."

"Like getting his mistress involved in the business."

"That's one," Leah said, logging off her computer. She took a sip of her coffee, snapped her fingers, bee-lined to the station exit. Jacob followed close by. "I have a feeling Esme's the type of woman who would turn the other cheek for the greater good. I'm sure this wasn't Jessica wasn't Carlisle's first fling, but it was the most detrimental."

"Was it a love marriage?"

"Does it matter?" Leah challenged. She was very passionate about this topic. "Love or not, respect is key to marriage. Parading your mistress and getting her involved in something so precious?" She shook her head. "Far from being respectful."

"Why, then?"

Leah glanced behind her. "Huh?"

"Why kill him after the ambush?" Jacob wondered, rubbing his chin. "Jessica had been around way before then."

"It supposed it was the last straw," Leah answered, stopping in her stride to greet Aisha and Martinez with a wave. "After all, I'm positive that Victoria and her crew, with the approval of the Volturi, pulled that stunt as retaliation for James' murder."

"Which Carlisle ordered Edward to commit," Jacob said. "Allegedly."

Leah nodded. "I'm sure Esme felt a kind of way about her husband's liaisons, but at the end of the day, it's just business. Carlisle's ultimate demise was simply a part of a business strategy."

"Which seems to be working very well," Jacob said. "With all of the focus on the Volturi and the Velasquez cartel, the Olympic coven's been able to fly under the radar for months."

The conversation continued as they entered their car. "They're going to slip," Leah said without any doubt. "Just give it some time."

"Oh, I know. Nothing lasts forever."

"That's for damn sure. Especially if Barba's serious about going after Edward for Mike's murder. Esme is overtly running the show, but Edward's still officially the head of the coven."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Is he?"

"On paper, he is."

"Yeah, _on paper_," Jacob stressed. He caught Leah's puzzled expression. "C'mon, you think Esme would let Edward take over without her blessing?"

"Of course not, but she likes to operate behind the scenes," Leah said, rolling down her window to breathe in the fresh air. It was a beautiful day outside. "They're going to make a mistake. That's what happens when people think they're in the clear, they relax, slack off… fuck something up."

Jacob revved up the engine and smirked, "I look forward to it."

* * *

The meeting with Jane, formally of the Volturi, was held inside the cramped basement of an old brownstone, formerly owned by Alec. The area was dark without only the street lights from the small, ground-level windows streaming through. The scent of old wood, damped dirt and furniture were relentless to the women's enhanced sense of smell—it wasn't the most ideal place for Leah and Jane, but then again, it was. No one would expect them to meet there.

"I find it hard to believe that the Volturi are back to their original strength," Leah said to Jane. "They've lost too many people in the past year."

Jane made an amused sound in her throat before downing some blood. It wasn't synthetic this time; it wasn't vegetarian. One hundred percent human, imported from Mexico—Leah would question it, but figured it wasn't in her lane. She wasn't a part of the damn ATF.

"Perhaps you should start believing, then," the vampire advised. She neatly wiped off the blood droplets from her chin with a napkin. "Yes, Felix is done. Santiago is gone. So is Demetri, and my brother… They were important, but none was the lifetime of the coven. The Volturi still lives."

Tapping her fingers along the cold, metal table, Leah asked, "How strong?"

"As long as the Four are still in charge, it will always be strong. Nothing much has changed, unfortunately. Not since the raid. Not since my departure. I am sure they are tending to more important matters out in Moldova besides hiding out from American law enforcement."

"So, they are recruiting," Leah concluded. "Have any idea about the new hires?"

"Unfortunately, I d not," Jane said with a frown. "But I do know how the Volturi recruits: they look for potential in anyone and then, they make their move. Also, they will see if any seasoned vampires would like to join them—They were never a fan of newborns."

"So, nothing special," Leah said, opening her bottle of water. Brought at the store down the street, she didn't trust Jane enough to accept drinks. She downed about a third of it before continuing, "They're using the same recruiting methods as standard gangs."

"I suppose you are right." Jane shrugged before finishing her glass of blood. She poured another. "Do you know where I get this from?"

Leah lifted an eyebrow. "The blood?"

Jane nodded.

"Sometimes, ignorance is bliss."

"Even for a detective?"

"Even for someone who wants to get to the bottom of this investigation."

Jane's mouth twisted slowly into a smirk. "There's a place out in Milwaukee. Completely legal. The federal government had checked out the owners in the '90s due to their line of business, but nothing came out of it. Some may say that the business of paying grieving family members for their loved one's blood is distasteful, but it's not illegal."

Leah grimaced at the thought, but Jane was technically right. "I assume they have their lawyers, consent forms, and NDA's ready," she said.

Jane nodded. "Oh, the owners are legal and business-savvy. The prices range depending on the circumstances behind the loved one's death. They do not handle those with blood disorders or diseases. Medical history is significant—ever had some?"

"Blood?" Leah snorted. "Now, come on."

"Blood may not be a staple in your diet, but you still intake it," Jane maintained. "I'm sure you do not roast your dinner during those late-night runs."

Leah eyed Jane. "What is the point of this conversation?"

"To prove that we're not much different?" Jane offered. She took a sip. So nonchalant. "To prove how lucrative the supernatural business is?" She took another sip. "Now, back to the Volturi—Aro had wanted to recruit the owners into the Voldemort's sphere of influence. They weren't vampires, but they were invaluable. They knew the game, and their family had played it so well for the last three centuries—some of the bravest human I've ever known."

_There's a point to this_, Leah vowed to herself in hopes of quelling her frustration. The two women didn't have much time to talk—she glanced at her watch—a quarter to ten in the evening. Only twenty more minutes to go.

"That was about thirty years ago," Jane continued. "Aro couldn't have killed them off. Doing so would've created a ripple-effect not worth enduring. See that business, run by the Jaworski brothers, has many clients. Some even more powerful than the Volturi."

"I thought the Volturi was the most powerful coven in the world?"

"One of," Jane said. "They're the most well-know, especially in this country, but there's always someone better." She paused. "Some say that the Volturi are impenetrable, but they are not perfect. No one is." Another paused. "Everyone has a weakness."

Leah was curious about this weakness, but she knew Jane wouldn't straight-out tell her. At least, not now. That wasn't the vampire's M.O, and because of this, she decided to switch gears. "Another thing." She waited until she received the affirmative nod. "What do you know about Thomas James?"

Leah pulled out a folded photo-copy of the deceased man's profit and held it up.

Jane took one look at the photo. "One of Heidi's employees," she said, flat. "An ambitious lad, but the Volturi had no use for him, especially after he befriended Mike Newton."

"What would that be a problem?"

"Newton had a wavering sense of loyalty. Just like the formally-Honorable Calvin Sorio—Are you looking into Thomas?"

"He's dead."

"_Ah_."

So, Jane did know about it.

"What do you know?"

"He was talkative fellow," Jane remarked. "Who promised a safe haven to a man that the Volturi couldn't trust and to a woman, a human, he barely knew."

Mike Newton and Lauren Mallory.

"Where is he now?"

"In the Pacific, perhaps?" Jane replied before taking a sip of blood. She smacked her lips, and, "I do not have many details on the matter expect that Santiago was spent to do the job."

Who was also dead.

Wait—Leah frowned. Heidi had told her that Thomas' death had been _Felix's_ doing.

Interesting.

"Nothing came out of the death," Jane carried on, "Mike and his lady friend were taken in by Jasper. By the time we found out, it was far too late." Her eyebrows drew together. "Or were we? Both were soon found dead."

"Mike Newton, according to the records, committed suicide."

Leah gave Leah a look. "Ah, yes, just like Demetri." She didn't believe the official account. Anyone with a brain wouldn't. "If you believe that, Detective, then I have mistaken you for a competent member of the Chicago Police Department—Ah, look." She pointed at the clock, hanging on the wall adjacent to her. "Time is up. Funny how time passes so quickly…"

Leah stood up. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye." She tapped her waist, making sure she still was in possession of her badge and gun_. Just in case_. "Thank you, as always, for your assistance."

Jane's eyes were on the detective as she gathered her jacket. When Leah faced her, she spoke up, "I should also add." A smirk plastered on her face at the sight of Leah's interest. "That Heidi may be out of a job very soon."

"Excuse me?"

"How is one expected to run a talent agency without any staff?"

Leah straightened her suit jacket, and asked once again, "Excuse me?"

Jane finally rose from her seat. "My people have received information that the Volturi are none too pleased with Miss Baumgartner, or shall I say, Mrs. DuPont. I hear she is under investigation for trafficking based on some very credible evidence." She shook her head, feigning pity. "That never ends well for the accused. The Volturi suspect she will talk in exchange for a more favorable sentence. If she talks, then her employees will also talk—" She cocked her head, almost mocking. "Do you how powerful pillow talk can be?"

* * *

"Why does it seem that every time you speak to someone, you're recommending witness protection? We don't hand out that program like it's candy. Witness protection costs money," Paul grumbled. "I thought we gave up Heidi to the feds?"

"That's not entirely… confirmed," Jacob carefully reminded the captain.

It was complicated.

Yes, a deal had been made between Leah and Leah, but it didn't mean that the socialite was entirely in the clear, as far as the Chicago Police Department was concerned. She might no longer be "considered" a suspect to Jessica's and Gianna's murder, but she still had committed other crimes. Including, but not limited it, running a brothel.

Paul rolled his eyes at Jacob's comment.

Sharing a quick look with her partner, Leah shifted her in her seat and cleared her throat. "Well, yeah, at this rate."

"Protect and serve," Jacob quickly added, giving the captain a pointed look.

Paul wasn't impressed.

"_Captain_, Heidi's gonna get herself killed," Jacob argued, slamming a fist on his chair's armrest. "Didn't you just hear what Lead said? Jane _knows_ about Heidi's conversation with us. If Jane knows, then you can bet your pension the Volturi does, as well."

Paul ran a hand down his face and groaned, "Well, hopefully, she'll be in federal custody by then."

"Like that's going to do anything," Leah said. "Look at what happened to Mike."

Paul huffed. "Don't remind me."

* * *

"I have a fascinating conversation with Jenks this morning and was informed that the feds aren't entirely aware of our arrangement with

Leah cocked her head, confused at Paul's statement. She had to let out a snort—five minutes before her shift was set to end, and her boss wanted to drop a bombshell on her. And sadly, Jacob wasn't around to experience the unpleasant surprise with her.

"What are you talking about?" she asked in a low voice. She glanced at her to ensure that no one was eavesdropping. Jane was a sensitive subject. "She has immunity."

"Correction: they didn't know about her our current agreement with Jane. As far as they are concerned, Jane gave us information about the hotel tapes, and that was the end of her cooperation."

Leah was still confused. "But that's not what the agreement says."

"Actually, it does," Paul argued, but he wasn't happy about it. "Everything else was just word of mouth."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Leah spat, no longer caring who heard her. "So, everything after that?"

"On paper, it is considered information only. We can't use her words as evidence unless we revise the agreement."

"And Barba isn't going to change it?"

"No."

"But she's a federal prosecutor. Can't she—" Leah slapped her forehead. "Oh, right. The Deal."

Paul nodded.

The Deal—the authorities and sworn they would come up with an alternative by the summer, but considering this was a government initiative, Leah doubted they would meet the deadline. The only reason why the contract didn't completely constrain the Voldemort Unit was because of the higher up's more or less feared Paul.

"So, what should we do with Jane?"

"Nothing. Keep her as an informant. God knows we need as much information we can get," Paul said. "But everything she told us after her first confession can't be legally used in her favor."

"She should've stopped talking about that…" Leah mumbled. It wasn't Jane's fault, though. "Fuck," Leah cursed, stomping a foot on the ground. "What do you want me to do, then? Not mention anything to her? She's going to want something in exchange for her cooperation. And if it's not legal action, then what? She's only immune in the eyes of the feds, not here."

Which, in Leah's humble opinion, was complete bullshit. Jane had come to her first. The police should have priority over her statement, but it didn't work that way. She knew it didn't; federal cases, especially involving the mob, were always on top of the totem pole."

"Does she want to get paid?"

Leah shook her head. Jane was living comfortably in a downtown penthouse, maids, and all; she wasn't desperate for money. "All she wants is to avenge her brother's death by bringing down the Volturi and not going to prison for it," she told Paul. "Can't we get Jenks to do anything?"

"The feds are being particularly possession about their informants in supernatural investigations."

"So, what? We share informants all the time. We practically _hand_-_delivered_ Novak to them," Leah cried. "Can't we get Jenks to talk to the judge? The judge likes him."

Perhaps that was a gross overstatement.

The Cook County Judge tolerated Jenks.

"But not enough to bump heads with the feds," Paul pointed out. "I already asked him. The judge isn't going to validate any immunity of any kind concerning Jane. It will be her untouchable, which won't sit well with the brass."

Leah threw up her hands. "This is some bullshit, Paul."

"Of course, it is," Paul said. "Welcome to politics."

* * *

"This has major implications," Aisha said during an official meeting, taking place the following morning. "We can't use Jane's information for any legal action. Even if we now know that the Volturi is actively recruiting. Even if we now know that Heidi has a hit on her."

Leah let out an exasperated sigh. She might not care for Heidi, but she didn't want the woman to get killed. She was sick and tired of witnesses dropping dead.

"Something's going on," Martinez said. "This can't be the first time the feds shared information with us. Why is the judge holding back?"

"Like Paul said," Leah remarked with a shrug. "Welcome to Politics.'

"Yeah, but what kind of politics?"

"We're not going down _that_ road," Jacob warned Martinez, but then, "Unless…"

Embry gasped and cupped his face. "Oh hit, Jacob has an idea," he teased.

Leah stifled a chuckle.

"Shut up, Embry," Jacob said, then, "Unless, we get Benjamin involved," he suggested. He raised a hand, silencing any potential protests. "Hear me out: a lot of information Jane had given us can also be confirmed by Ben, right? Yeah, sure, she provided more details, but Ben knows about Heidi. He knew the Volturi was leading her on, and he knew that it wasn't going to end well, right?"

Everyone else exchanged looks.

Martinez broke the silence. "Right…"

"He infiltrated the Volturi and the Olympic," Jacob said. "He knows some shit, so we can say everything we've obtained, we've gotten from the ATF. It's not exactly lying."

"And the extra info?" Leah inquired. It wasn't a _terrible_ idea, just a very risky one. One wrong move and everything could blow up in their faces.

"We obtained that _after_ following leads based on the information Ben had provided us. We can leave Jane out of this," Jacob explained. He snapped his fingers. "That, my friends, is what is called a loophole."

"The Bureau knows about our collaboration with the ATF," Aisha added with a grin. "So, it won't be a reach. Our source, if anyone asks, is Ben."

* * *

"So, tell me again why you can't use Jane as a source anymore?" Ben wondered a few days later as he paced around Jacob's and Leah's desk. The visit was a pit stop, not supposed to last more than ten minutes. He technically wasn't even allowed to be here since he was technically undercover. To what extent was undetermined.

"The Cook County judge and Barba won't allow it," Leah told the agent.

"And why?"

"Politics," both Leah and Jacob replied.

Ben slowly nodded. "Oh yes, good, ol' fashioned politics. Gotta love it." He rubbed his hands together. "Listen, so the only ones my people care about are those involved in the blood or arms business. That's why we're the ATF. Anything else, like human trafficking, isn't in our jurisdiction."

"We know that," Jacob said.

"And Heidi's involved in trafficking..."

"She knows about the UV's," Leah added.

"How? Only from pillow talk?" Ben shook his head. "My peeps are treading very lightly due to the special population we're dealing with..." He crossed his arms. "Though the Volturi, I heard through the grapevine that they're ramping up their recruitment efforts. I also heard that they've been buying out arms factories in Romania. Of course, in Transylvania." He let out a snort. "Of course."

"We've heard the same," Jacob said.

"Well, yeah—" Ben stopped, drawing his eyebrows together. "Isn't this whole thing outside the scope of your investigation? I thought you were only focusing on Jessica Stanley and Demetri's maybe-girlfriend? Not this mess."

"They're all connected," Leah said. "Jessica was involved in the arms dealings, though with a limited role. Gianna was two-timing both the Volturi and the Olympic covens... speaking of that, ever heard of Thomas James?"

"The vampire?" Ben asked, and after receiving an affirmative. "Saw him he and there. Last time? May. He wanted to make it big in Hollywood. He tried to get into the Volturi, but they weren't interested. He also used to be cool with Mike, even considering going into business with the man... which you can imagine, the Volturi didn't appreciate."

"Because of Mike's wavering loyalty," Leah confused, then added, "He's dead, by the way. Thomas."

Ben sighed. "Can't say I'm surprised," he said. "Seemed like a piece of work, but he wasn't under our radar. Unless he had some connection to the UV or blood business, he would be the Bureau's problem. He might even be wrapped up in that trafficking investigation since he did work for Heidi..." he trailed off, then snapped his fingers. "And he did know Gianna. I recall him talking about asking her out, but Demetri wouldn't let that happen. He had a possessive streak."

"Oh, I can only imagine," Leah remarked. "Thanks. That was helpful."

Ben nodded. "Always here to help."

"What about the testimony collaborating with Jane's information?"

"I can only talk about what I've told you," Ben stressed. "If I can't match Jane's statement, I'm not going to claim it. That's perjury."

"Understandable," Leah said. "Anyway, it's not like there's going to be a trial. The last thing the court, both state and federal, wants is a supernatural case on the record. That would only open a can of worms no one wants to deal with."


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three **

* * *

"Two-week notice," Leah said, reading off her notes. For the past week, her and Jacob's investigative focus was solely on Gianna Castellano and the information provided by Jacob's Cicero Police Department contact. So far, most of their inquiries had met a dead end. But something had to give; detectives just had to keep on searching. "Why would they let her submit two-week notice? Why couldn't they leave it alone and make it seem like she simply disappeared?"

"The two-week notice could've been real," Jacob provided, handing over Leah a fresh cup of coffee before sitting down at his desk. "Maybe she wanted to leave before she knew shit was about to hit the fan?"

Leah rubbed her chin and continued flipping through her notes. Something wasn't adding up. "If she was so concerned, why didn't she just leave? The two-week notice wouldn't have been necessary."

"Maybe there was a penalty for abrupt departures?" Jacob offered, then, "Her Facebook page didn't provide much information besides her wanting to start something new. We can check if she had other job prospects?"

Leah nodded, but then, "Why is a VPN necessary? Why does the firm want everyone to think they're operating in other countries?"

"Obviously to throw people off," Jacob said, "And to get access to content not available in the United States. People use it all the time, and—Embry, we're discussing actual _police_ work, what do you want now?"

"You know what? Fuck you," Embry said, flipping Jacob off. He then turned to Leah, grinning while still cursing an amused Jacob with his middle finger, "Good morning, my favorite member of the pack."

Leah chuckled, "Good morning to you, too, Embry." She folded her hands on her desk and peered up at the other man. "What brings you here this fine day?"

Embry pulled up a chair from the adjacent table and sat down between Leah and Jacob. "So, don't get mad, but I have accidentally invited Lisa to our little dinner party next Saturday."

Leah raised both eyebrows, and Jacob nearly choked on his coffee. They shared a look, then Jacob, trying to laugh it off, advised Embry, "Don't let Paul hear you call his get-together a dinner party. It's a glorified pack meeting with food… and random family members and now, significant others."

Embry rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of significant others, are you sure that's wise to bring Lisa along?" Leah asked. "She's an absolute sweetheart. I'd hate for you to unleash her onto… you know, the rest of our pack."

The issue wouldn't be Quill, and Leah liked to think she was also in that category (because she and Quill were _mature_ beings). The problem was everyone else. Jacob (yes, their alpha), Paul, and Jared took great pleasure in torturing Embry (with love, they liked to claim though obviously didn't feel the same way when the favor was returned).

Embry let out a nervous chuckle as Jacob clenched his chest, insulted by his partner's comment. "Wait, what is that supposed to mean?"

Leah brushed off Jacob's dramatics, "I'm just expressing my concern," she said with a wink, and then, "Embry, you know the guys are going to try everything in their power to embarrass the hell out of you."

"True," Embry admitted with a nod. "That's why I'm preparing."

"Well, I, for one, cannot wait for this," Jacob declared, rubbing his hands together. The look on his face was menacing, which made Leah laugh and Embry concerned. "I have _so_ many questions to ask her. Starting with: what's the appeal?"

Leah gave Jacob a disapproving look.

Embry pointed the finger at Jacob and declared, "You're not asking her a damn thing!"

"You can't tell me what to do," Jacob taunted, puffing out his chest.

Leah shook her head. He was so immature, she thought, trying to stifle a laugh.

Embry didn't appreciate Jacob's comment, and therefore asked Leah, "Can't you do something?"

Leaning back in her seat, Leah looked up at Embry, trying her darnedest to take Embry seriously, and asked, "Now, Officer Call, what exactly do you want _me_ to do?"

"I don't know, _stop him_?" Embry responded, arms flailing and all.

Leah snorted. Like she had the power. But she still snapped her finger at Jacob's direction, instantly getting his attention, and told him, feigning seriousness, "Stop."

Playing along, Jacob shrugged. "Okay."

Embry tossed his arms up and groaned, "You two are impossible."

As Jacob and Embry continued arguing about the non-dinner party, Leah took the phone out of her pocket and quickly texted under the table: _Embry. Flustered face. Absolutely hysterical. _

Embry gave Leah a dirty look. "Are you seriously texting Aisha now?"

"Who says I'm texting Aisha?" Leah asked, playing dumb as she pocketed her phone. Aisha was currently testifying in trial, not related to the Voldemort Unit. The detective was going to need something to bring up her spirits—Leah turned to her partner. "Jacob, apologize to Embry."

"For what?"

Leah narrowed her eyes. "_Jacob_."

Jacob sat up in his chair. "Hey, we're—_I'm_ just messing with you, man," he told Embry, no longer in the teasing mood. "You do know that, right?"

"Actually, I don't know," Embry said, crossing his arms. "Between you and Paul, and of course, Jared's going to try to ruin my life. Honestly, the only one I can depend on is Quill."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"

Embry snorted. "You encourage his behavior."

Leah rolled her eyes. "If you're so concerned about your reputation, then don't bring Lisa along."

"Can't uninvite her," Embry confessed. "I, sadly, already told her, and now, she's all excited."

"You have no one but yourself to blame for that one," Jacob said.

"Yeah, I know," Embry mumbled, and then in a more alert voice, "Oh, and another thing. Very important. As far as Lisa knows, we're all human, so if you don't mention anything about wolves, that'd be great."

Leah and Jacob shared a look and shook their heads.

"You didn't _tell_ her?" Jacob asked, surprised.

"It's not exactly an easy conversation to have," Embry argued, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. He ignored Leah's disappointed expression. "You just don't go ahead and be like: oh hey, so I can turn into a big-ass wolf. Don't be scared or report me to the government."

"That's basically how Jacob told me," Leah pointed out.

"You two don't count," Embry maintained, and then, "So yeah, no mention, _please_?"

Leah ran two fingertips across her lips. "Lips are sealed."

"You didn't tell her about _us,_ and you're bringing her along to a glorified pack meeting," Jacob asked carefully, placing a hand on his forehead. "Does that make sense?"

Leah shook her head.

"Jacob, _c'mon_," Embry practically whined. "And I don't care what Paul says; it's a dinner party."

"His lips are sealed," Leah promised Embry; she glanced at Jacob, daring him to say otherwise. "Right?"

"Right," Jacob quickly replied. He cleared his throat, finished his coffee, and then, asked Embry, "Hey, you're down for Rod's tomorrow night?"

"Of course. Definitely don't want to miss that." "You're coming along, Leah?"

"I've been convinced." "But why we have to go on a _work_ night?"

"Half off drinks," Embry replied with a smirk. "Quill agreed to be the designated driver for a fee."

Leah's chuckle was light. "You mean for free?"

"No, for a fee."

"How much?" Jacob asked.

"Split fifty plus gas."

Jacob tossed his head back and groaned, "Seriously?"

"In his defense, Milwaukee isn't close. I mean, it's close, but it's not a half an hour drive," Leah reasoned. "Anyway, why Milwaukee?"

"Only wolf-only club in the vicinity. There used to be one in Bucktown, a former speakeasy, but it got shut down after a mini-brawl with some leeches," Jacob explained and then added due to Leah's puzzled expression. "It's a long story. Happened back in the '90s."

"Do you know those involved?" Leah wondered. She had a feeling there was much more to the story.

"Dad, exactly," Jacob mumbled with a shrug and then stressed, "It's a long story."

Leah and Embry exchanged curious glances, but both chose not to press the issue further. A few minutes later, after Embry left the area, Leah leaned over her desk, caught Jacob's gaze, and told him, without trying to laugh. "Don't embarrass him next Saturday. You're an alpha. You're supposed to set an example."

Jacob's expression was pained. "Oh, _come on_, Leah."

"Don't embarrass him too much."

"I only want to know simple things, ask simple questions," Jacob insisted, through the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. Eventually, he relented. "Fine, I'll behave."

Leah reached further across the table, tapped Jacob's cheek a couple of times before sitting back in her seat. "Thank you."

Jacob snorted, and the pair returned to their work.

* * *

"_Who thinks they have what it takes to take down the reigning Arm-Wrestling Champ? Come on up_!"

Leah couldn't believe she was this invested in an arm-wrestling match featuring nothing but shape-shifting wolves. But here she was, leaning back against the bar at Rod's, eagerly waiting for someone to take a foot forward with aspirations to bring down the "champ" for three hundred bucks.

Of course, Paul accepted the challenge with Embry and Jared (with their phones out), egging him on. Jacob and Quill remained at the bar, shaking their heads and laughed. Leah just hoped an argument didn't break out between Paul and the currently reigning champion. She was one of the best captains she ever had; she didn't want him to get in trouble because of some stupid video on Twitter.

Nervously chuckling at the thought, Leah went to the other side of the bar, the side closest to the match, and ordered a WB beer. "Thanks," she soon told the bartender and slapped a couple of bills down on the table. She hopped onto a stool, occasionally watching Paul's matching from the corner of her eyes.

Paul, being his overly-confident self, was currently flexing his arms. Leah could only laugh. She glanced to her right. There was a woman beside her with a Martini in her hand, lightly laced with wolfbane. She matched Leah's height, roughly the same age as her, dressed as if she had just come from work. Fancy enough not to wear jeans, but casual enough not to be in a suit— She seemed bored, but not enough to leave the establishment.

"Long day?" Leah asked.

Leah didn't even know why she had said anything. She was never the one for small talk, and the woman didn't seem to be one, as well, but she didn't brush off Leah. She looked up at the detective, slightly amused and embarrassed, let out a loud snort, and downed most of her drink. "Do I really look that bad?"

"You looked exhausted."

The woman laughed. "I like my job. Love it," she said, trying to convince Leah otherwise. "Honestly, I do. But sometimes, I wish I could sit home and not do a damn thing. You know what I mean?"

"I know exactly what you mean," Leah said, eyes roaming around the club. "So, why aren't you doing that now?"

"Doing what?"

"Sitting your behind home and doing shit."

"Good point." The woman lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. Tossing her head back, she drained the rest of her martini. "Drinks are half off tonight," she said, setting her glass aside. She leaned over the railing, eyes on the next round of arm-wrestling. "And I can't tell you how entertaining these matches are—they used to wrestle, but then the cops strongly suggested my brother it cut it out."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Your brother?"

"He co-owns this place," the woman said. "Now, you'd think that means I can get drinks for free, right?" She shook her head and snorted. "Some brother."

Leah briefly turned her attention to the arm-wrestling match. It was still going on with neither Paul and his opponent buckling. And now, bets were flying everywhere. "Hey, he gotta make money."

"Damn, you sound like him."

Leah scoffed.

The woman extended her hand, "Valentina," she introduced with a smile. "But I usually go by Tina."

"Leah," she provided. Her smile matched Valentina's. "So, what kind of wrestling would result in police intervention?" she wondered, but then the answer quickly entered her mind. "They were wrestling as wolves."

Valentina nodded. "Now, _that_ was entertaining, but can be problematic to the laymen for obvious reasons…"

"Yeah, we don't need the hysteria."

Valentina shook her head. "That's for damn sure," she said, then, "Though I think more people know about us then they let on. They're just looking the other way, keeping their mouths shut. It's like some weird don't-ask-don't-tell situation."

Leah could believe that. She had seen it with her own two eyes, every day at work. She was sure most people at her office knew about her; the rumor-mill was very active in the police department. But they were big on protecting their own. Sometimes, it could screw up everything (including public confidence), and sometimes, it was an absolute relief.

"So now, there's only arm-wrestling matches..." Leah remarked, letting out a light scoff. "Not going to lie, I'd love to see actual wolves wrestle. I mean, like in an actual fight."

Valentina grinned. "I'm sure there's an underground fight club somewhere."

Leah nodded. There was an underground club for _everything_. She made a mental note to ask Jacob about that—speaking of her friend, she glanced in Jacob's direction. Quill had moved closer to the arm-wrestling match, leaving his alpha alone. Jacob didn't seem to be upset with the move, especially since he had his sights on a pretty brunette sipping on what Leah would assume was a Sidecar. She would occasionally look at Jacob with a flirty smile—Leah scoffed and reminded herself to tease Jacob about this later on.

She let out a dry cough and downed some of her beer, itching to order another one. Maybe something stronger, like Long Island Iced Tea. Oh no, she had sworn herself that potent drink. After all, she did have to go to work the next morning.

"He's yours?" Valentina asked with some amusement.

Leah blinked. "Who?"

"Him."

Leah slightly frowned. Unfortunately, she knew precisely whom Valentina was talking about. _Yours_. She shuddered at the thought. "Oh." She downed the rest of her beer and asked for another one (with slightly less wolfbane). She shook her head. "No, not really."

Valentina cocked her head. "So, is that a no...?"

"If you're interested as well, I'm not going to stop you."

Valentina eyed Leah, surprised and puzzled. "No, just curious," she said flippantly, but then added, "You're pretty lax about this."

Leah blinked. "Should I not be?"

"Yeah..." Valentina's perplexed expression didn't falter. "People are usually possessive about their mates—"

Leah adverted her gaze and huffed. Not this again. "We're not mates."

"Oh," Valentina simply said. "Okay."

"It's complicated," Leah added.

"Understood."

"We're _not_ mates," Leah stressed. She needed Valentina to understand that she and Jacob were just friends, just bond-whatever. If he wanted to hook up with some other lady, then who was she to stop him? And vice-versa. What they had, it was working, and she'd like to keep it that way. It made life easier.

Valentina put up both hands. "You're not mates."

Leah nodded curtly. "Exactly."

Valentina wisely decided not to press the subject, and Leah couldn't be more grateful. She looked at Jacob's way; he was still chatting with the woman. He seemed interested in her, and vice versa. Nothing deep or anything, which was fine—she was happy for him. And then, by chance, she locked eyes with the woman.

Leah forced a smile, but the woman froze. Then her eyes widened; her chest began heaving dramatically; she was breathing her, seemingly alarmed. With her eyes solely on Leah, she ignored Jacob's concerned question.

Eventually, the woman would break out of her trance. She gulped, said some words to Jacob, gathered her purse, and just… backed off. Leah raised her eyebrow at the exchange, wondering what the hell was that about. She watched Jacob's action; he was confused, for obvious reasons, but didn't go after the woman. He just shrugged, seemingly no longer concerned, and turned her attention back to the never-ending arm-wrestling match.

Were Paul and his opponent trying to for the Guinness World Record or something?

Shaking her head, Leah returned her attention to Valentina, who was watching her through knowing eyes. She ignored her new-found friend's looks and asked, trying to change the subject, "You're a part of a pack?"

"Lone wolf."

Leah nodded. "I see."

"I used to be a part of one, but then my old-alpha spazzed out," Valentina further explained. "Long story short, the role wasn't for him, and I wasn't in the mood for the drama." She sighed then, "You?"

Leah cocked her head in Jacob's direction. "He's my alpha."

Valentina nodded. "Oh, your non-mate."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Valentina laughed, obvious finding Leah's whole situation with Jacob hysterical. "How is it?" she asked, "Being a part of a pack?"

"It's taking some time to adjust to it..." Leah admitted.

"You're new, aren't you?" Valentina asked. "How old?"

"I'm thirty-five—"

"No, in _non-human_ years."

"Nine months."

"And you're already in a pack?" Valentina nodded with approval. "Lucky you."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Is it that rare?"

"Usually, people turn at the worst, inopportune times," Valentina said, grimacing. She must have had some experience, or had been a witness. The latter seemed more likely; Leah had a feeling that she was born with the ability to turn into a wolf. "Sometimes, without consent, without support, just left to die…"

"I had to accept it," Leah remarked. "Not fight it."

"Can't be easy."

"I wouldn't know," Leah said. "I blacked out."

"But you're still alive," Valentina pointed out, tapping Leah's arm. "That has to mean something."

Leah smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right," she said, smiling to herself.

"What are you smiling about?" Valentina asked, curious, and amused.

Leah shook her head, waving dismissively. "You're the first female shape-shifter I've actually talked to," she admitted. "Not going to lie, it's nice. I'm in a pack full of men, who I adore, but still, they're men."

"No, I get it," Valentina said. "It appears that we're a rare breed in these parts. Most of the shapeshifters I've met were also men." She grabbed a napkin and asked the bartender for a pen. She then quickly wrote a number down and handed it to Leah. "Here. My number," she said with a lopsided grin. "Hit me up sometime?"

Leah took the napkin.

* * *

"Am I trapping you?" Leah asked the next morning before stifling a yawn. She wished it last night hadn't been a work-night. She wished today was Saturday so could go back under her covers and sleep off her slight hangover—

She didn't even know why she had asked that question. She wished she could take it back and close her eyes for the next thirty minutes. But it was out there, and chances were Jacob was going to say something. Eventually. Jacob still hadn't responded.

She shifted her attention from outside her passenger window to Jacob. He seemed, no, was taken aback by her question. Not that she blamed him. She cursed under her breath—this was a conversation for another day, another time. Or perhaps, this was a question that should never be asked at all.

They didn't talk much about the bond, especially after the night Jacob had sort of explained whatever-the-hell was going on. And it seemed to be working quite fine until last night until she had realized that maybe she was a detriment to Jacobs' love life. There had been this woman, gorgeous woman. A seemingly-unattached shapeshifter who had spent a good ten minutes exchanging grins and looks with Jacob; it had been meaningless, playful flirting—Leah hadn't minded (good for Jacob); she had been barely paying attention to them; most of her focus was on her conversation with Valentina.

She could hear Jacob and the woman exchanging pleasantries and thought everything would go well until the woman noticed Leah from the other side of the bar. Leah didn't want to believe she had looked intimidating; she could have sworn she hadn't glared at the woman. But the woman had backed off.

Jacob had laughed it off and made some self-deprecating comments about his moves and how he had to ask Embry for dating advice (to his absolute horror). But Leah… she hadn't found anything funny. She still didn't.

For a brief moment, the duo locked eyes, and then Jacob blinked, and his attention returned to the road ahead of him. "What are you talking about?"

Leah regretted ever opening her mouth, but the cat was already out of the bag; she couldn't cower now. She sat up in her seat and downed most of her coffee. She didn't care if it was practically cold.

"With this bond, am I trapping you?" Leah asked again. "Am I preventing you from…" She shrugged. "I don't know, finding a new girlfriend or mate because we're emotionally bonded or whatever?"

"What are you—" Jacob let out a dry cough and drew his eyebrows together. "_Where_ is this coming from?"

"I was just thinking," Leah mumbled. Maybe that was the problem; she was thinking too much. She got in her head too much. She couldn't just _go_ along with the flow. There's nothing we can do about this bond, right? It just _happened_. And I know it's the closest thing to mating, according to Kim... I just don't—I don't want to trap you."

Jacob swallowed. "Okay."

Leah raised an eyebrow. She had expected a more profound response than _that_. "Okay?"

"You're not—" Jacob stopped, took a deep breath, and continued, "I mean, I don't know what you want me to say."

"The truth, maybe?"

"It's too fucking early for this…" Jacob muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Eventually, he relaxed. "You're not— I don't feel trapped. Trust me, Leah, you'd know if I am…" He exhaled. "I'm not exactly searching around for a mate, if that's what you're concerned about."

Leah frowned. She wasn't concerned. Not at all. Why would she be? After all, he was—She shook her head and pressed on, "What about last night?"

"What _about_ last night?" Jacob asked, and then, "Oh. _Oh_." He waved dismissively. "That was nothing. She was nice-looking. That's all."

Perhaps that had been all. No, Leah knew it had been all because Jacob hadn't mentioned her for the rest of the night. He hadn't made an effort to find her. Nothing—Leah bit her lip. "I'm convinced I drove her away."

"What?" Jacob ran a hand down his face. "_Leah_."

"I just don't want to be in the way."

"When are you ever?" Jacob asked softly. "It's fine. Do you honestly think you're trapping me?"

"I know I can be difficult," Leah said, eyes glued to the moving scenes outside her passenger window. Nothing unusual was in sight, just cars, a rising sun, buildings, and paved roads. Just another Chicago morning, but she didn't want to look at Jacob. "But if you find someone, tell me, and we can figure something out."

"I don't think it works that way..."

Leah faced Jacob, narrowing her eyes. "So, I _am_ trapping you."

Jacob huffed with frustration, "You're not."

Leah backed off a bit, finally accepting that Jacob wouldn't change his mind. She picked up her coffee cup, finished the rest of the drink, and asked once the tension died down to a safer level, "So, hypothetically, how would this work?"

"What if I get a girlfriend?" Jacob rolled his eyes. "Hey, how about if you get a boyfriend?"

"It requires the same answer," Leah said. "I was only wondering... just in case."

"For the last time, I'm not trapped... Do _you_ feel trapped? This bond is a two-way street."

She never took the time to think about it. She, like Jacob, wasn't actively looking for anyone. No one had caught her eye—yeah, there were handsome men around, someone who might even overlook her shapeshifter-situation. But nothing. "I have no intention of entering a relationship anytime soon," she admitted. "So, I have no reason to be."

"No intentions, huh?"

Leah shook her head. "None."

"What if it just happens?"

"There's no such thing," Leah argued. "You have to decide to be in a relationship with someone, right? That doesn't come out of the blue. The decision needs planning, needs a cross-benefit analysis—"

Jacob snorted as he made a right turn. "Damn, you sound like you're at work already. Analysis? It's too early for that."

"I was only answering your question, Black."

"Glad you did, Clearwater."

The conversation was tabled for the rest of the ride.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

* * *

"Why does it bother you so much?"

"I never said it _bothered_ me."

"It was heavily implied," Dr. Murad said, folding her hands over her legs. The look she sent Leah clearly said she wasn't here for any bullshit. Her unwavering eyes reached Leah's. "Heavily."

Leah grumbled. Dr. Murad could sometimes be such a pain in the ass. Why did she have to call her out? Why couldn't she let Leah be great? Why the hell did Leah mention her issue with the bond in the first place? It wasn't the end of the world. She could handle it.

"I may not personally know the man," Murad said when it was Leah that wasn't going to give her an answer, let alone a straight one. "But from all accounts provided by you, he seems to be okay with this turn of events?"

"Because he's him," Leah replied, rolling her eyes. "He's _always_ okay with everything."

That was an overstatement—He obviously had an issue with his father and his gang-leader of a cousin. He also wasn't too fond of vampires or Leah's insistence that she was a burden to him. But that was neither here or there.

Murad studied Leah for a moment. "Have you ever had an honest conversation with him?" she asked, unperturbed.

"Yes."

To be honest, _no_.

Murad lifted an eyebrow. "And?"

During the rare times when Leah tried to have such conversations, Jacob had brushed her off. For the last time, _Leah, you're not trapping me, _he had told her numerous times. _Leah, we can work with this. It's not a big deal_—

But something told Leah he was holding back. Lying by omission, whether he knew it or not.

"There was this woman," Leah swallowed, shifting on the couch. "Pretty. I guess she could be Jacob's type, but didn't have the chance to find out because_ I_ drove her away…" She sighed. "Jacob, being him, brushed it off, but I'm not blind. I knew that look in her eyes." It reminded her of Emily during that fated night when she got caught. _Fear_. "I asked him about it the following morning if this bond-thing we have… if it's trapping him. Preventing him from, I don't know, finding someone else."

Murad slowly nodded. "I assume your kind can sense… things." She lifted an eyebrow. "Correct?"

Leah eyed the therapist. "More or less, yes."

"What did he say?"

"As I said: he downplayed everything," was Leah's frustrated response. "As usual. Like it wasn't a big deal."

"Maybe it's not?" Murad suggested with a half shrug. "Which brings me back to my earlier question: why does the concept of bonding bother you?"

"I have no idea what's going on," Leah confessed, feeling like she was losing her mind. Maybe she was. "And it doesn't help that he doesn't either." She let out a humorless laugh. "For fuck's sake, he was born this way! Shouldn't he know how to deal with this shit!"

"Just because he's a natural-born doesn't mean he knows everything," Murad calmly explained. "It's not different than the experiences of humans. For instance, Leah, tell me. When first, I don't know, fell in love with Sam, did you know what you were doing?"

Why did she have to use _that_ example?

"No, it's not the same thing," Leah argued vehemently. "I don't know. it's just sometimes… I feel like he's not being completely honest with me. Like he's scared to tell me the truth."

Murad cleared her throat. "With all due respect, Leah, but aren't you doing the same thing to him?" Before Leah could interrogate her on the meaning of her comment, the therapist checked the time on her wristwatch and announced, "Time is up for this session," she seemed more than glad about that fact. Perhaps even more than Leah. "Next week, same time?"

* * *

"I don't know what Murad was talking about. I've been _more_ than honest with him," Leah informed Aisha later that night. Thank goodness, Sue and Seth were _nowhere_ near the vicinity of the kitchen. She adjusted the phone lodged between her the side of her face and her shoulder. "The guy even knows about my sex life. Well, lack thereof."

"Not to sound…" Aisha sighed heavily into the phone. "But you are being, kind of, sort of defensive."

She knew she was.

She had every right to be.

"You're not helping, Aisha."

"I'm only making an observation," Aisha said before Leah could yell at her; she knew her friend too well. "I don't think the woman's trying to call you out for nefarious reasons. She's a therapist; it's her job to make you think about your life decisions—And _sex life_? Is this what you two talking about during the long car rides?" She laughed. "Talk about a lack of boundaries."

"It's not like that—There's only so much bad music on the radio one can listen to," Leah defended. Plus, it was easy to talk in the car since it was usually just the two of them. No one was eavesdropping. No one was providing unnecessarily commentary. Just the two of them. "Do you think I'm taking things to another level?"

_Yes. _

_Maybe._

Fuck, she didn't know.

"Oversharing doesn't always equate to being upfront," Aisha pointed out. "No one is truly upfront with anyone. We all have secrets. I'm pretty your therapist wants you and Jacob to have an honest conversation about this whole bond-mess. Nothing barred. Nothing held back."

Leah ran a hand down her face as she rose from her seat and bee-lined to the fridge. "It's not we haven't tried…"

"Try harder," Aisha demanded. "Hey, it doesn't become a problem until it does. Is it a problem?"

Leah poured a cup of cola—the first cup of the carbonated drinks in weeks. She sighed, "No."

"Then, there you go. And please, don't get another therapist. I think seeing her has done some wonders."

Leah didn't want to admit Aisha was right. "Yeah…" she said, uncommitted. "I'll keep her for now."

_With all due respect, Leah, but aren't you doing the same to him?_

Leah frowned.

Screw Dr. Murad and all her wisdom. She didn't know what the hell she was talking about.

* * *

No, Leah did not mention anything to Jacob about the bond. Or the next.

But in her defense, he hadn't mentioned a damn thing either. It was fine.

_It worked._

* * *

"Did you get Aisha's cryptic text?" Leah asked Jacob as they emerged from their car. Late last night, Aisha had texted a few people about a bombshell that was about to drop. Another bombshell—Leah had to say, she was getting sick and tired of them. She would like to have one day, one week without drama.

"I'm sure it won't be too bad," Jacob said, handing Leah her free cup of coffee. "If it was that terrible," he continued, greeting some cops along his way to the station entrance. "Paul would've given us a heads up over the weekend."

That wasn't necessarily true. Paul cherished the weekends so much for himself and his subordinates that unless something were burning down, he wouldn't mention anything until the following Monday. A blessing and a curse.

"I appreciate your optimism," Leah said, analyzing Aisha's text for the umpteenth time.

"Did you get Quill's text?" Jacob asked, changing the subject. He held the door open for his partner. "The one taken at Paul's with all of our faces attached to a puppy's body?"

"I don't appreciate having my face photo-shopped to a puppy's body," Leah complained, walking past Jacob." Yes, she had received the same text. It was pretty funny; she had to admit, especially Paul's picture, no one had to know that. "I'm a wolf, damn it."

Jacob laughed.

Leah planned to send Quill a strongly-worded message, but then received a text from Benjamin via a burner-phone: _You may want to turn on the news._

* * *

The feds had Sonya DuPont.

The infamous socialite and all members of her entourage were arrested in her summer home in Evanston earlier this afternoon, apparently without any resistance.

This was a big story, even bigger than last year's corruption scandal because everyone not living under a rock knew who Sonya DuPont, also known as Heidi Baumgartner, was. The story was so big that one it spread around the station, most of the casework halted as the members of the Volturi Unit turned their undivided attention to the office's television.

Carolina Barba looked as smug as ever as she spoke to the press. This was a slam dunk case, the US Attorney essentially said, using her legal jargon. The feds were going to throw the book on Mrs. DuPont. She was going to have to relinquish all of her hard-earned assets thanks to her involvement in trafficking. Goodness only knew what would happen to her employees.

"She's fucked," Embry remarked.

"Why didn't she pull a Volturi?" Aisha wondered, sitting at the table with Leah, Jacob, Martinez, and Embry. "She could've now been chilling with the coven in Moldova or some other country without an extradition treaty with the United States. But no, she's in federal custody."

"Bound for Alcatraz," Embry commented, shaking his head.

"Trafficking is a serious crime," Leah said, leaning back against her seat. On television, Barba was still speaking. "Wondering if they'll ever do anything about their husband."

"The man committed suicide," Aisha reminded her friend. "Can't do much with that."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Martinez asked. "I thought you were better than that."

Aisha rolled her eyes. "Honey, I've been in this business long enough not to believe anything," she said. "And who cares about what happened in reality? On paper, the husband committed suicide, so he committed suicide."

"Like Mike," Embry said.

"No, his death didn't have an official designation," Jacob pointed out. "Bella was being cautious."

"Oh, how is she doing?" Martinez asked. "Haven't seen her in a while?"

"It's been pretty quiet on the homicide-front."

Aisha shot Jacob a dirty look. "Don't jinx it, Black," she warned. "And now, thanks to you, with our luck, another multiple-homicide case is on the horizon for yes. Let me take a wild guess: nine bodies?"

It was hard to discern if she was serious or not.

Embry sent Aisha a wary look. "You're awfully specific…"

"As long as it's not the second coming of the Slaughterhouse murders of Saint Patrick's, I'm good," Leah said, earning a nod from everyone.

"She's going to take the plea," Jacob remarked out of the blue, eyes glued to the television. Out of everyone at the table, he seemed to be most in what Barba and the feds had to say.

"How do you know?" Embry asked.

"You think a woman like her wants to spend all of eternity in Alcatraz?"

"She won't last long in public. If she takes the plea, it's only because she's willing to cooperate. Cooperating witnesses are a liability to a criminal organization."

"Well, let's just hope she talks before she gets silence," remarked Paul, startling everyone as he appeared next to their tables, arms crossed. He looked to his left and ordered, "Cameron, get the Bureau on the phone!"

"Got it, Boss!"

"You think they'll let us in on the case?" Martinez asked.

"They're going to have it," Paul said. "We got to her first."

"She's been on their radar," Aisha pointed out.

"Yeah, but we got to her _first_," Paul stressed. "We got her to talk, got her to hire one of the best lawyers in the business. That's leverage."

"I appreciate your confidence, Captain," Jacob said.

"Well, someone has to have some—Clearwater, check with Hale to see if she's willing to give a statement about her newly-arrested client. She seems to like you. Hopefully enough to give you something valuable."

"Already on it, Captain," Leah said. "I scheduled a meeting for tonight."

"Tonight?" Paul frowned. "Can't it be earlier?"

"She's a vampire, remember? She's at her best after the sun goes down."

* * *

"You don't seem too surprised by your client's arrest."

Rosalie made a noise in her throat as she lazily maneuvered around her office. She appeared off, exhausted even for a vampire. Her suit jacket was strewn across her office couch. Her heels had been tossed aside; the sleeves of her expensive blouse were rolled up- Leah wouldn't judge her. The lawyer had a long day.

"Can't hide your skeletons in the closet forever..." was Rosalie's eventual reply as she poured herself a glass of blood. "I offered her to leave the country, but she refused. The FBI has been on her case since her Murder-One acquittal. No one believes Matthieu DuPont took his own life."

"Do you?"

Rosalie gave Leah a look. "Does it matter? she asked; the comment wasn't a question. "The case is closed."

"It can be re-opened."

"Wouldn't be worth it. Sonya is in trouble for trafficking, not the supposed murder of her husband- Two separate entities."

It was shocking to see Rosalie like this, so, dare Leah say it? Resigned. And she, the queen of impassive expression, wasn't holding it in. But then again, it had been a long day.

"Why did you agree to become her lawyer?" Leah asked, following a moment of silence. "This was a losing battle, and you knew it."

"I have my reasons," Rosalie said. "I already got what I needed," then with a smirk, "Don't worry, Detective, my gift has nothing to do with your precious investigation. I'm not that foolish."

Leah leaned back in her seat. "Are you implying that you've behaved foolishly at one point?"

Rosalie took a sip of her drink. "Haven't we all?" She carefully placed her glass aside and sat down behind her desk. She unrolled her sleeves and buttoned them. "And thank you for Novak," she said. "I have to admit, the news of his arrest brought a smile to my face. It's been a while."

Leah sat up. "Yes, but I doubt you're getting your ten-grand back anytime soon." She cocked her head. "And smile? Novak ratted on Edward. I thought you'd be upset about that."

Rosalie shook her head. "Edward... I have to admit, is like a brother to me, but what he did to Newton?" She shook his head again. "That decision was almost as idiotic as Lauren running to you and your comrades. Sometimes, one has to fail, has to suffer to become a better person."

"Tough love, huh?"

"Sometimes, it's the best kind."

* * *

It was 8:55 am, five minutes until the start of Leah's dreaded semi-annual performance review. She was hoping, as she watched Paul speak rather animatedly on the phone, the captain would be too preoccupied and forget the meeting altogether.

She would _love_ that.

"Want me to come back later?" Leah asked carefully, glancing at the squad area behind her. Everyone was hard at work, just like she should be. The amounts of paperwork she had to complete made her head hurt. She turned, looking at her captain, hopeful he would reschedule.

Paul acknowledged the detective's presence with a look before returning his attention to phone call. The person on the other line sounded like Larson, one of few CPD upper management that wasn't on Paul's hit list. "Look, I don't give a damn what the major says. He's not chasing around supernatural gangsters for a living!"

Leah raised both eyes. The conversation seemed serious. She glanced behind her, already with one foot out the door. "Captain—"

Paul put up a hand. "Larson, I'll call you later. And for the love of God, please don't do anything that'll get us all the pink slip. Your husband will kill you. _I_ will kill you." He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Police management strikes again." He gestured the chair in front of his desk. "Sit, please."

Leah slowly sat down, eyeing Paul. "Is everything alright?" she asked, concerned.

Paul folded his hands on his desk, leaning forward. "Be honest with me, Detective. Do you think the higher powers will let me resign today with dignity?"

Leah's eyes widened. It must've been a rough morning for Paul.

"Not a chance."

"_Shit_."

"You could've said no to the job."

"I _should've_ said no," Paul muttered under his breath, then backtracked, "No, that's not true. I like this job. Keeps me on my toes. It's the damn bureaucracy that gets on my nerves." He slapped a hand on the desk. "Shit, I should've fought harder for a lieutenant."

"I often wonder about that…" Leah said. "I thought the big bosses love sticking to the chain of command?"

"The brass wanted me to be the front-line supervisor without losing the tile," Paul explained, waving around his hand. "The usual BS."

"You need a middle man," Leah said. "Get yourself a lieutenant, Captain."

"I know, I know…" Paul trailed off, then looked up at Leah expectantly, "So…?"

Leah already knew what he was going to ask. "_No_."

Paul let out a dejected sigh. "You've never considered being a lieutenant? Never thought about taking the test?" he asked, genuinely curious. "You don't have to be assigned here. That may be a conflict of interest issue… and I _really_ don't want to deal with Internal Affairs anytime soon."

The captain's relationship with Internal Affairs was complicated.

"I'm content with being a detective," Leah told Paul.

"It's more money."

Leah narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "Are you trying to drive me out of the Voldemort Unit?"

Paul shook his head. "Absolutely not," he insisted as if offended that Leah would suggest such a thing. "But I don't want to hold anyone back."

Leah gave a small smile. "I appreciate the gesture," she said, sincere, "But I'd like some stability for once in my life."

Paul nodded, understanding. "Well, yeah, I guess that's important, too…"

"You can ask Jacob," Leah offered.

"You wanna get rid of that bad?" Paul asked with a short laugh. "No, no, no, he doesn't want it. Lord knows I've tried." He clapped. "But enough about me. We're here got your performance review—"

Leah dropped her gaze. "You could, you know, just postpone it."

"Where's your confidence, Detective," Paul asked with light humor as he pulled out the detective's file from the metal file cabinet behind him. "Trust me, you'd know if I thought you were doing a horrible job." He gave Leah a pointed look. "Have I once banished you to desk-duty purgatory?"

Leah swallowed. "No."

"Exactly." Paul opened Leah's file and skimmed the first page. "If it makes you better," he later added, "I don't mention your little insubordination stunt from last year."

Leah dropped her gaze.

It hadn't been her finest hour.

"I'd appreciate that."

"Honestly, it's not worth the hassle," Paul said. "Do you know how many questions the brass would ask? Can you imagine the _paperwork_?" He placed a hand on his forehead. "My heart hurts thinking about—" He dropped his head, looking at Leah, serious. "Leah, for everything holy, don't even do _that_ again."

Leah nodded. "I won't," she promised, then, "Is that it?"

Paul shrugged, shutting Leah's file. "Besides me not stopping you from getting a raise, albeit a small one?" He shook his head. "No."

Leah sighed in relief.

Paul's eyebrows drew together. "Did you honestly think this was going to be that bad?"

"I don't have the best experience in this area," Leah confessed. Despite never been demoted or experienced a salary cut, she knew most of her captains didn't think much of her and her personality. She had been told numerous times that she could come off _too_ strong, too serious; it could turn people off, especially partners who were supposed to have Leah's back.

She had accepted she wasn't everyone's biggest fans, but she did wonder if all of the discourse from the past few years had more to do with the units she worked in rather than _her_. She had been working under Paul for over a year, and save for a few smartness's, didn't much to complain about.

"You don't have to worry about that with me," Paul said. "If I had an issue with you, wouldn't be here. Simple as that—Oh, right, one last question before I let you: anything you need from me?"

"Jane," Leah provided immediately.

At this point in the investigation, the Voldemort Unit couldn't afford to lose another valuable informant because of some technicality.

Paul sighed. "Leah—"

"I know it's essentially a crap-shoot, but her words, what she's been telling me all this time, it's serious," Leah explained. "The Volturi's trying to make a comeback."

Paul snorted. "Did they really leave?"

"_Paul_."

"I have a plan," Paul declared, then added, "Of some sort. It involves us and various law enforcement agencies. I just need to iron out the kinks and make sure the superintendent and mayor don't demand my head on a silver platter."

"What are you talking about?" Leah carefully asked, then rephrased her question, "What are you trying to do?"

"If everyone works out, we may be able to solve this Jane-problem," Paul said, not exactly answering Leah's question. That was on purpose, the detective concluded. "Give it some time," he said.

"Are you telling me not to worry about Jane?"

"I'm telling you that I'm working on it."


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

* * *

"I'm pretty sure this isn't Jenks' office, Clearwater—Thinking about returning to school, are we?"

Leah shook her head as she kicked a small rock down the stoned path she and Jacob were walking along. To her left was the Loyola University Chicago main campus with its constant construction projects, green grass, and a handful of students attending the summer session. On her right was the beautiful Lake Michigan—this area, this campus, brought my memories. Memories, at one time, she had cherished.

"Hell no," Leah eventually said. Those days were _over_. "And with what money? Four more years, and I don't have to worry about the Department of Education ever again."

"Ah, student loans. Never heard of 'em," Jacob boasted with a lopsided grin. "One of the benefits of never going to college."

"Whatever," Leah said. "Why didn't you attend, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I had a decent-enough job out of high school, working for a family demo business," Jacob explained. He noticed Leah's smirk. "I know construction has a _reputation_, but the business wasn't a front. It's run by an uncle from my mom's side. They mostly operate on the right side of

Leah cocked an eyebrow and let out a laugh. "I'm just messing with you," she said, bumping Jacob's arm with an eyebrow, then asked, "Why did you leave to become a _cop_?"

"Because I'm an idiot," Jacob joked, then more serious, "Being a cop is more stable. Don't have to worry about the possibility of not working between jobs. Don't have to worry about insurance, retirement. And OT money isn't that bad."

"I thought being in construction was good money?"

"Yeah, at first, especially compared to a rookie's salary," Jacob said. "But it also depends if you're in a union."

"Was it?"

"No. Under-the-table advances were more his thing."

The realization dawned on Leah's face. "Oh."

"Happens all the time," Jacob said, waving his hand around. He moved to change the subject, "So, Clearwater, if we're not here to register for classes or to follow a lead, then why are we here? Not that I'm complaining, but…"

Leah turned to her right and lurched forward, folding her arms on top of their railing that separated her from the large rocks lining the lakeshore. She breathed in the late spring air. The June morning was absolutely gorgeous, not too hot, not too cold with minimal clouds in the sky. With the sights and the lack of crowds, Leah could forget for a moment she was in the middle of a major city.

She glanced at the roundabout, roughly twenty feet away to her left, flashing back to all those years ago. She remembered walking in that very area with her wedding dress and bridesmaids—Emily had been one of them. "I figured we could—" She sighed. "I got married here."

"Really? _Nice_." Jacob remarked, impressed. "What was the damage?"

"Too much," Leah said. Despite enjoying her wedding, she wished the funds for it were used to something more substantial. "But my mom and Sam's mom were obsessed with those TLC wedding shows. We had to go big."

"This a nice place."

"Today would've been my ninth anniversary," Leah quietly said. "Nine years…"

"_Are you serious_? Mine was yesterday!"

Leah's eyes widened. "Wow, what are the odds?"

"Yeah, we did it on a Friday," Jacob said, chuckling. "It wasn't anything fancy like this." He gestured his surroundings. "We wanted something simple, so we went to the justice for peace. We had a down payment on a house to worry about."

"You two were smart."

"When did you tie the knot?" Jacob asked. "2010?"

Leah nodded. "Yours?"

"2005."

Leah laughed, incredulous. "_2005_?" How old was Jacob at the time? _Nineteen_? Goodness, she couldn't even imagine getting married at that age. Why would you do that to yourselves?"

"Because we were young and dumb," Jacob joked, shaking his head. "We were high school sweethearts. Didn't see the point in waiting. Thought it would be forever."

Leah knew the feeling. "Forever is overrated."

Fuck, she sounded so bitter—She wasn't, for the record. She was only being honest, realistic.

Jacob gave her an amused look before letting out a short laugh. "Aren't you the romantic?"

"That's overrated, too."

She was never much of a romantic, even when she had been at her happiest. She never was the grand-gesture type, never a fan of roses (especially due to now-defunct allergies). Never truly cared for Valentine's Day— Or maybe her definition of "romantic" was too limited.

She shook away the thought.

"You should mention that on your next first date," Jacob teased. "See what the other guy says."

"That'll be the plan if I want to scare him away," Leah said with a chuckle. "Would you do it again?" she asked as her laughter died down. "If you could go back into time?"

Jacob shook his head. "That ship's sailed," he said, adamant. "I mean, I still care about her and stuff, I'm no longer _in love_ with her." He shrugged. "At least, not enough to hop on a time machine."

Leah nodded. "It's such a weird feeling, isn't it?" she mused, thinking of her own experiences. "Loving someone, but not being in love. I guess it's more an active versus passive thing…" She could feel Jacob's gaze on her, but she didn't match it. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I get it," Jacob said, wrapping his fingers around the railing, squeezing it. "So, I assume the ship sailed for you as well, huh?"

"It's sailing to another planet at this point," Leah muttered. She cleared her throat after a moment of silence. "Come on," she said, voice detached; the trip down memory lane was over. She pushed off the railing. "Jenks is expecting us."

* * *

"What is your endgame?" Jenks asked, folding his hands on the desk. Despite all efforts to demonstrate otherwise, he looked _tired_, completely over Chicago. But he was still here, willing to listen to Leah and Jacob because, damn it, that was what the people of Cook County and Illinois paid him to. "Mike's case is more or less closed. We know who killed Jessica and Gianna and why. Of course, said-killer is also dead…"

Leah understood why Jenks had asked the question. It had been more than a year since the Dahlia case, and still, no one had been arrested for it. Despite the evidence. Despite everything. Damn it, if only Demetri hadn't been killed, one could only think of the possibilities. And Gianna? The detectives had inklings, but her case was just as frustrating as the Dahlia's.

Their only saving gave was that Leah and Jacob worked for a captain who understood their plight. But even then, Paul was going to want some answers one of these days. Preferably, before the summer ended. After all, he had people to answer to, as well.

"Why don't we arrest the ones who disposed of her?" Jacob suggested. "Start there?"

Leah gave Jacob a sharp look.

"Jacob—"

"Oh, come on, Jenks, they know the drill," Jacob interjected; his voice hardened as he spoke. He wasn't entirely convinced of the idea, but he pressed on. "They knew what they were getting themselves into. Get the judge to issue a warrant. Slap on some charges."

"And charge them with that exactly?" Jenks challenged.

"Unlawful disposal of a murder victim? Trespassing?"

"Accessory?" Leah tossed in.

"To what?" Jenks asked though it wasn't really a question. "They're a third party. With some good lawyers, they can easily claim they didn't know they were disposing of a body. Check _People v. Boyle_. It's complete BS, but it's precedence."

"You don't think we have a case anymore," Leah concluded. It was disheartening to hear, especially since it came from one of the most supportive prosecutors Leah had ever known.

"You do, trust me, you do. But not for those two murders. The person who committed them is _dead_. All other witnesses are also _dead_."

"What about conspiracy to murder?" Jacob argued. "Demetri didn't decide to kill Gianna. The Volturi most likely did—"

"Who is in Moldova," Jenks said, voice clipped with frustration. "It's a part of a larger investigation—" He sighed. "Look, I'm a prosecutor. Nothing would bring me more joy than to bring those involved to justice, but I need _something_. And right now, you don't have enough."

"Jenks, the Volturi put a hit on Heidi—"

Jenks put a hand, cutting off Leah. "But that's not your case. She's the feds' problem now," he stressed. "Your cases concern Jessica Stanley and Gianna Castellano, both of which are more or less closed until some _miraculous_ evidence appears. Anything else related to those cases, take it up with your captain."

* * *

"This is some bullshit."

"I know it's not what you want to hear from our precious assistant state attorney," Leah said as they emerged from the office building. "But I think he has a point. He needs evidence… He's not trying to disparage our work. Jenks still supports us and the unit."

"I know he does," Jacob gritted out, hands balling into fists. "It feels… it just feels like everything we've done for the past year was for _nothing_."

Leah's stomach dropped. She understood his frustration, she truly did, but all of this doubt wasn't going to make things easy, wasn't going to make things go away. She needed to stay on board. The Voldemort Unit needed him. "That's not true," she said, voice soft but stern. "It hasn't been a slam dunk, but don't you dare say our work was for nothing."

Jacob swallowed. "That's not what I—"

"I know, but I wanted to tell you that just in case. Our life isn't a TV show. We're not going to solve every single crime overnight or ensure that every perp gets what they deserve. All we can do is our best, which have been doing, thank you."

"Yeah, I know—"

"Don't tell me _you_ _know_."

Jacob stiffened.

Perhaps, Leah was being a bit harsh, but she couldn't let him think they had been wasting their time since last January. True, it sucked that their main suspect, Demetri, was dead. It sucked that their primary targets were currently residing in another country without fearing extradition. It was frustrating, downright _infuriating—_ but they and the Voldemort were a part of something big. Everything would come to light; she could taste it.

Their hard work solved Mike Newton's murder. That was something. That was _huge_.

This investigation wasn't over.

Far from it.

* * *

"Let's see what we're working with: Jessica Stanley found DOA on the night of January 15, 2018, inside the LaPush executive suite registered under her name. COD: cardiac arrest induced by unknown poisonous substances—"

"Vampire bite," Leah corrected.

Paul looked up from the opened case file on his desk, raising an eyebrow. "We can't exactly have that _on record_," he reminded detective, then, "But yes, a vampire bite." He looked back down. "All lacerations found on body occurred post-mortem. Time of death: between 7:00 pm and 9:00 pm. The main suspect is Demetri Karlov, who was found dead weeks later… So, we know this was a hit." He glanced up for confirmation; he received one. "Right. So, Demetri bit her, that was clear, but was he the one who chopped her up?"

Jacob shifted in his seat. "We… don't know," he said.

"You don't know," Paul said, disappointed but not surprised. He closed Jessica's files and reached for another one. "Okay, Gianna Castellano—based on video evidence, she was present before, during, and possibly after Jessica's murder. There is no proof, however, that she contributed to the death, but we do know she didn't do anything to stop it. Gianna was found, back in February, wrapped in a garbage bag at a landfill. Based on evidence collaborated by Jacob's dad's buddies—"

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

Paul chuckled before dropping the playful pretense. He carried on, "Gianna was likely killed on the same night as Jessica. COD: slit throat. The main suspect is Demetri Karlov. One again, a hit most likely made by the Volturi who didn't agree with her liberal definition of loyalty…"

"They must've found out about the ten-grand given to Gianna for cooperation," Leah said.

Paul shook his head. "Not to disparage the victim, but if I were going to betray the Volturi, I'd demand a helluva lot more than that."

"Wouldn't we all," Jacob muttered under his breath.

"Now, we do know a Fangs-associated disposal company received the contract to transport Gianna's body to the landfill," Paul paused. He looked up and asked, "Do you know if Novak was involved in that?"

"No, he wasn't," Leah said. "He was involved in the transfer of the ten-grand. The Volturi must've chosen someone else."

"Who?"

"We don't know," Jacob admitted, sharing a look with Leah. "But we're going to find out."

"See that you do," Paul said. "We're missing something. I don't know what, but we are, and frankly, it's getting on my damn nerves."

"Join the club," Leah remarked.

"But why cut her up?" Paul wondered. It was a question that plagued everyone. "I mean, they killed Gianna for pretty much the same reason as Jessica, presumably committed by the same people. But why she Gianna found in a landfill and Jessica at LaPush? Why the difference in treatment and which type is considered worse?"

"Jessica is the 2018 version of the Black Dahlia," Jacob said. "Is that really a question?"

"But do you think they cared about that?" Leah questioned. "Maybe it was a part of a ritual?"

"Jessica was messing around with Carlisle, right?" Paul asked. "What was his reaction to her death?"

"We don't know," Jacob said. "We never had the chance to speak to him on this matter."

"But we do know Demetri was found with a UV lodged in his skull not long after the incident at LaPush," Leah said. "Has to be retaliation."

Paul slowly nodded, drawing his eyebrows together. "For which one?"

"Possibly only Jessica's," Leah said. "Until we found Gianna, everyone just assumed she had gone missing."

"Hm… I don't think the Cullens were innocent."

"We don't either," Jacob said. "Esme knew what was about to go down at LaPush and didn't do a damn thing because Jessica was screwing her husband."

"But did Carlisle know?"

"He knew Jessica was there," Leah said, recalling the last conversation she had with the matriarch. "But only to participate in the deal. We don't know if he, you know, knew about her extra-curricular activities.

"Hm," Paul leaned back in his chair, stroking his chair. "Jenks called this morning. He's pretty given up on any hopes of prosecuting anyone for the death of Jessica Stanley and Gianna Castellano, as much as it pains him. The main suspect is dead, and the Volturi is fuck-knows-where in Moldova…"

The detectives shared an alarmed look.

"You want both cases closed?" Leah asked, hoping that wasn't the case.

"No," Paul said definitively. "Not officially, but brass got wind of our difficulty getting to the bottom of them, and therefore would like to shift our attention to more pressing matters—"

Jacob threw up his hands. "Paul—"

"Can I finish?" Paul sharply interjected, staring down at Jacob as if daring the other man to interrupt him again. "I said _not officially_, didn't I? Jessica's and Gianna's murders are just as important in this investigation as everything else. Something happened that night; we can't ignore that. I have a sinking feeling that those two deaths weren't entirely about revenge."

"What do you want us to do?" Jacob asked, starting to lose his action.

Leah resisted the urge to caress the back of her partner's neck, to calm him down. It seemed always to do the trick.

"Ask around," Paul said. "About anything. Hell, _everything_. This is all connected, and we need to find that connection. Once we find out what's going on between the covens, then we can finally understand what happened on January 15, 2018."

"A different approach," Leah said.

"At this point, we don't have much of a choice."

* * *

"I guess we're being reassigned to the general populace," Jacob grumbled as he and Leah returned to their desks. Thankfully, it was near the end of their shifts. Just thirty more minutes. "No more specialized homicide cases for us."

"You heard what Paul said: they're not closed," Leah reminded him, sitting down. She moved her seat up to her desk. "We can't focus all of our attention on two cases anymore. And with everything be so intertwined, you never know. Maybe we can catch a break?" She gave Jacob a small but reassuring smile. "It'll all work out in the end."

"Look at you, being all optimistic," Jacob said as if Leah had always been a pessimist. "Gotta love the higher powers."

"Despite what people think, Paul does have to answer to a bunch of people," Leah said, glancing behind her to where the captain's office stood; he was still inside. "Thankfully, the brass respects and fears the man enough to stay off his back. For the most part."

Plus, it did help, for Paul's sake, that no one with any sense of self-preservation wanted his job. The position was full of headaches and not much public assistance, since, according to the law, the supernatural only existed in folklore.

"Yeah."

"He doesn't look thrilled about the new change of plans," Leah pointed out. She pressed the message button on her desk phone to check on her numerous voicemails. "I think this goes beyond him."

"Everyone likes to keep things in-house until they can't. Things changed after that trafficking case and when the Volturi decided to jump. Now, we're dealing with more people, more jurisdictions…"

"We have to get more help."

"I think Paul needs a stronger justification."

Leah scoffed at that. "Stronger? Isn't this past year and a half justification enough?"

Raising both eyebrows, Jacob made a noncommittal noise. "I guess we'll worry about that tomorrow," he said, voice suddenly weary.

Leah nodded before returning to deleting her messages. Most of the voicemails were non-essential. She frowned and hung up the phone, wishing someone had left a tip or a lead. She turned her attention to a couple of reports that needed a final review and signature until she felt a hand on hers. She looked up at Jacob quizzically.

"You good?

Leah glanced down at her hand, the hands, and forced a smile. "Yeah," she said with a sigh. That man could read her like an opened book. "Tired."

Jacob took back his hand. "You and me both," he said quietly. He powered down his computer, deciding he was officially done with work. "Heading home?"

Leah shook her head. She wished she was. "Have to stop at an old friend's place for a moment," she said. The meet-up wasn't anything special, but if everything worked out, she might be able to squeeze out some information. "Recon reasons."

"Paul would be so proud," Jacob said. "Want some company?"

"This friend gets nervous when in the presence of one or more cop," she explained, giving Jacob a pointed look. It didn't look long for the man to understand her implication. "I'll you posted."

"Oh, you're seeing _that_ one," Jacob said. He let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. "Pick you up tomorrow?"

"Same time."

* * *

"_Oh, great_..."

Leah hid her satisfied grin behind her hot drink as she watched her target toss aside his dish towel and headed her way. She took a long sip, savoring the milky foam and the espresso, and carefully placed it on the table. "Buona sera, Signore. Come stai?"

"Your accent is still terrible," the man remarked, giving Leah a cagey look before finally relaxing. "And I _was_ fine, then I saw you here, sitting at one of my tables. Hiding out in the corner. If this were a different time, I'd have to call in some people."

"After all this time?" Leah shook her head, feigning disappointment. "I thought we were friends…"

The man let out a snort before snapping his fingers, getting the attention of a wandering waiter. He ordered a coffee. "Extra sugar," he demanded, tapping his temple. "For the stress."

Leah gave the man an unimpressed look.

"Of all places to get a cappuccino," the man carried on, shaking his head as the waiter left. "You decided to choose _here_. Why?"

Leah didn't take the man's biting words too seriously. He might not be too entirely to be in her presence, but he wasn't hostile. And he wasn't under arrest, so technically, he could just walk away. But he didn't.

"Oh, Genny," Leah said, smirk returning. "I thought you said your place makes the best-caffeinated drinks? I'm just testing it out. Making sure you're telling the truth."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ that's why you decided to pay a visit…"

Leah took a bite out of her cannoli. "Genny, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Genny looked up at Leah and huffed. "And here, I thought you were gonna leave me alone."

Gennaro "Genny" Marzano, a blast from the past. An interesting guy, some years older than Leah. He had his own run-ins with the mob and the law, but then his older brother got killed during a trivial turf war and decided to cooperate.

He wasn't a snitch, at least, not in the legal sense of the word. Not once had he testified on the stand. A blessing and a curse, Leah had realized. The curse was obviously; no testimony, no real evidence. But the blessing, they could talk "off the table", revealing some pertinent information without really revealing it, "off the table". It kept the information sharing alive—Just as long as money was involved.

Paying people off for some intel was a part of the job. The hard part was determining whether or not it was worth it. Some people Leah had encountered were not, but Gennaro. He hadn't failed her yet.

"You're not in jail, right? You don't see the handcuffs out, right? That's me leaving you alone." Leah scanned the establishment. "I see you still have the cafe. New décor, huh? I guess the weed business is still rolling in the money. Keeping investors happy, aren't you?"

"I'll have you know that's it's no longer a crime," Genny argued. "I even got a license from the state."

Leah took another bite of the dessert. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," Genny said. His eyes portrayed doubt regarding the authenticity of Leah's compliment, but his smile clearly stated that he was proud of his work. "I'm trying to live an honest life. The running numbers game and all of that smuggling—it's no longer fun. Too many things can go wrong."

"You can say that again," Leah muttered, and then asked in a clearer voice, "How's Connie?"

Gennaro cleared his throat. "You remember Connie?"

"Of course, I remember Connie. She's the fool that married you."

She was also the smart one who knew how to rein in her husband, who knew how to say just enough words to scare him into believing that she would leave with the kids if he didn't get his act together. She was tired of the mob-life. _Too much drama_, Leah recalled Connie telling her.

"Hahaha, very funny," Gennaro said. "She's fine, by the way. She's outback, making sure the place doesn't fall apart."

"That's good," Leah replied, sincere. She had no issue with the woman. "Tell her I said hello."

Gennaro scoffed, and then, "What do you want? I know you're not here to ask about my life."

"I did want to see how you're doing," Leah insisted before taking a sip of her drink. "But you're right, enough with the BS. You're still in the know about the illegal blood market?"

The industry wasn't the priority in the Voldemort's investigation. Paul had decided to let the ATF deal with that, but Leah did recall Jane mentioning the blood market during their last conversation. There had to be a reason.

Gennaro froze, then added more sugar into his coffee. Leah was more than aware of the correlation between the man's sugar intake and nervousness. But she could tell that he wasn't ready to lie. He was on edge because simply he was conversing with a detective. "You know I'm not involved in that industry anymore."

"I know, I know," Leah said, resisting the urge to snatch the container of sugar from Gennaro. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Gennaro finally put the sugar aside. "It depends."

"On?" Leah asked, then pulled out five twenties and handed them over. "Ah, some things change, some things still the same…"

"Money talks," Gennaro said, pocketing the money. He checked his surroundings; no one was paying him or Leah any mind. The smart ones knew to mind their own business in these parts. "La Madrina de Sangre's trying to make a comeback. You'd think she'd lay low after getting shipped off to Mexico, but _no_." He rolled his eyes. "I may have heard from unconfirmed sources that she's trying to get the Cullens to do business with her."

_La Madrina de Sangre. _Godmother of Blood—It appeared that Maria got her old nickname back.

"Esme's only interested in legit businesses," Leah told Gennaro.

"Yeah, we know. And that's why Madrina is banking on Edward or even Sicario changing Esme's mind, but she has them both wrapped around her finger."

"So, I've heard." Leah took another bite of her dessert. "She's an impressive woman."

"I've met her a few times. A sweetheart. But you don't mess with her."

"I'm sure some people found out the hard way," Leah remarked, giving the man a knowing look.

Gennaro nodded. "She doesn't get her hands dirty. Why do that when you have a bunch a people willing to do so in a drop of a dime?" He tapped the table a couple of times. "That, _amica mia_, is what I call power." He shrugged. "But, honestly, based on my experience, I think she's the least of your problems."

"Yeah, she knows how to keep quiet, I give her that."

"Nothing like her husband."

"He used to be like her."

"Yeah, but then that whole thing with the Volturi screwed everything up," Gennaro said. "And his slew of girlfriends didn't help."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Girlfriends?" She folded her hands and leaned in. Ah, this was why she was here. "I only know about one."

"I suppose you mean that cut-up dame found inside LaPush's. Saw that coming from miles away. If you're gonna mess with the big boys, you gotta know what you're doing."

"You met her?"

"I may know people who've met her."

"May?" Leah pressed against the back of her chair. "And the other girlfriends?"

"I don't know why someone would want to go through that mess," Gennaro shook his head. "Being tossed around from boss to boss like a goddamn hot potato. And it's not just the dames, either. They're some fellas running around, too."

"An equal opportunity enterprise," Leah remarked. As long as the money was green, some didn't give a damn. "Are you, Mr. Marzano, implying that there's a ring?"

Gennaro paused, then downed some coffee. "I'm not implying anything."

Sensing the conversation about to stall, Leah slid some bills to him, raising an expectant eyebrow.

He stared at them for a moment before quickly pocketing the money. "There have been rumblings on the street about the Olympic," he said. "More on the Denalis, they're not exactly happy with new management."

"Really?" Leah sat up and crossed her arms. "According to rumblings on the street, they've made more money the last few months than they had all last year. Shouldn't they be happy?"

"Yes. But money doesn't solve all problems. First, the head lady in charge was engaged to the new head, and now, she's been kicked aside. Completely shut out. Her surviving sisters are running the show now, but everyone knows they're taking orders from Esme."

_Carmen and Kate_. Goodness, it had been a while since Leah last heard of them. They usually operated in the shadows, way beyond the police's grasp. "What started all this?"

"I don't know all the details. Something about Irina betraying the family and Tanya being extremely upset about it."

"She's dead," Leah said. "Irina."

Gennaro sighed. "I know."

"You look concerned."

"The Volturi's out of the picture, sort of. Victoria's locked in Alcatraz. I _heard_ about Mike Newton and Edward's involvement. That means there's a power vacuum. On top of an unstable, _hostile_ work-environment within the Olympic," Gennaro explained, then huffed, "Of course, I'm concerned."

"I thought you weren't involved in the business anymore?"

"There's no such thing as completely getting out," Gennaro told the detective, forlorn. "I may be going straight, but I guess that's just an illusion in reality." He snorted. "The Volturi still knows my name…"

"They've been in Moldova for several months now," Leah reminded him. "They're gone. Out of our hair."

That was a lie, but Leah wanted to make Gennaro (and herself) feel better.

She wasn't successful.

"They're not _gone_, just in another country," Gennaro said. "They got some underlings running around, making sure things don't implode, but they're nothing like their old-school bosses. They have no sense of respect, territory. Honor. Going around, dropping bodies like it's—What's that game my nephew won't shut up about?" He snapped his fingers. "Call of Duty."

Leah's eyebrows drew together, completely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

Gennaro let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, you don't know?"

Leah leaned forward, dropping her voice, "How many are you saying?"

"In this past month, maybe twenty? Twenty-five?" Gennaro replied quietly, reaching out for the sugar container once again. "And some people only wanna talk about the _South Side_." He snorted. "If I were you, Detective, I'd look out West. Check out near Midway, too. It's a goddamn warzone out there."


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

* * *

"Several months without a body connected to this investigation, and now this," Leah grumbled as she emerged from the police-issued car. It was early in the morning; just an hour before, the Voldemort Unit had received a call from Homicide about their newest findings. "The one time I wanted Genny to be full of shit…"

"Don't you hate when that happens?"

The scene of the crime was located within a plot of grass, adjacent to a dilapidated parking lot near Midway Airport. The victims, after further inspection, were discovered inside a well-dug up ditch near a badly-maintained road leading off to abandoned tracks. It was public land, nothing Leah could think valuable except for the police department and the coroner's office.

"At least, our victims aren't inside walls," Jacob remarked as he walked around the hole's perimeter. Inside laid all nine victims. Nothing but bare bones. No traces of skin, no strands of hair. No clothing. Just bones.

Leah wasn't going to lie; the lack of was a pleasant surprise and an absolute relief. "Small victories."

"We have to wait for Bella and the crew," Jacob stated. He let out a dry laugh. "Just like old times, huh? Wasn't she complaining about our lack of visits last week?"

"I think she wanted to see us in a less morbid capacity," Leah said. She zeroed her focus on the state of the dug-out land. The presence of weeds sprouting along the edges told Leah that the hole wasn't newly-made. "Remember, we're going out for drinks this weekend."

"Hah, at this rate, none of us are gonna _have_ a weekend."

Leah sighed. "Yeah…"

Jacob took a step closer to the edge and peered over. "Well," he started, removing his sunglasses. He cleaned off the lens with a suit jacket sleeve before putting the shades back on. "This isn't from lye."

"Not strong enough?"

Jacob shook his head. "Unless it was diluted." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't know. if this was done weeks ago, that meant the bodies went through rapid decomposition before the bones were bleached white."

"Lye can do that."

"Lye turns bodies into sludge."

"Like Breaking Bad."

"Like Breaking Bad," Jacob echoed. He knelt along the edge of the hole and shook his head. "They did a horrible job hiding the bodies."

"Do you that was intentional?"

"Maybe. But then again, if these homicides are connected to the coven drama… every murder we've covered so far was out in the open."

"Except for Gianna."

"They could've dumped her in a large body of water just how they did with Thomas." Jacob looked up at his partner. "This is different, though. Just bones? Nothing but bones…"

Leah pointed at one of the skulls, noticing a jagged hole in the rear. "Shot execution-style," she concluded. "You can tell by the puncture that it was close-range."

Jacob stood up. "Wonderful."

Leah knelt along the mound's edge, tilting her head to the side as she further examined the skull. "See the angle? The victim was level with the killer. Either the same height or was crouching down. Laying down…" She shifted her focus towards the front of the skull. "No exit wound," she pointed out.

"Bullet must've lodged in the brain," Jacob suggested.

"Think these were humans?"

Jacob ran a hand down his face. "Fuck, I hope not."

"Rather be one of us?"

"I hate to admit that, but…"

The law, the _Deal_, could be a bitch.

Leah stood up. "Yeah, I know." She shoved her hands into her pockets. "Vampires?"

"Underneath this sun?" Jacob pointed at the sky above. The sun was shining bright, just like yesterday and the week before. "Nah. We'll just have to see what the Examiner Office—_Oh, look who finally decided to show up_?"

Leah turned around to see Bella and Eric walking briskly towards them with supplies in their hands; they both looked absolutely _thrilled_ to be at the crime scene. She waved at them from afar, and when they reached her, apologized for Jacob's lack of a proper greeting.

"You know, Leah, when I mentioned something about meeting up more, this wasn't what I meant," Bella said. "I was referring to a simple lunch or even a girls' night out…"

"Ready for your life to get more interesting?" Jacob asked, shaking both coroners' hands. "You're going to love this."

"I need my job to get less interesting," Bella said, dropping her bag at her feet and crossing her arms. Gone was her patented excitement masked as naivety. Thanks to last year, she was now officially inducted into the life of a government worker. Cynicism with a lace of cautious optimism. "I was told this was a multiple-homicide."

"It is," Leah confirmed.

"Tell me this isn't like last time," Eric practically begged.

Leah felt for him. He hadn't been the same since the slaughterhouse incident.

To be honest, no one had.

"Nah," Jacob insisted, waving his hand to downplay the severity of the situation. "Just bodies in a ditch. Come look; you'll _love_ this."

They all did.

"Oh," Eric said, taking a step back. "This is new."

"We counted nine skulls," Jacob told him. "Most have bullet holes towards the back."

"Wonderful," Bella mumbled, then asked, "No hazmats this time?"

"Not needed," Leah said. "As you can see, there isn't much left."

"What about anywhere else? I mean, the rest of the bodies _have_ to be somewhere." Bella glanced at the ditch and swallowed. "Unless…"

"Looks like some good, ol' potassium hydroxide to me," Eric finished with a nod. He knelt at the edge and studied its content. "Strong enough to corrode the flesh, but not the bone."

"I knew there's a reason you were hired," Jacob remarked with a smirk. When Eric gave him the finger as a response, Jacob clutched his chest, feigning disappointment while Leah and Bella laughed—it was nice to joke around, even for a brief moment.

* * *

"How's everything?" Bella asked Leah as they roamed around the abandoned lot. They were about a hundred or so feet away from the crime scene where Jacob and Eric remained.

"Rather not see a pile of bones inside a ditch, but I guess could've been worse," Leah said, glancing behind her. More personnel were arriving, and of course, so was the media; she could see the news vans driving in, pulling to a stop so the reporters and their cameramen could jump out. Hopefully, they'd pay attention to the caution tape this time; Leah wouldn't bet on it.

"It's not the slaughterhouse."

Leah nodded. "It's not the slaughterhouse."

"I can only imagine what that had been like, seeing everything in person." Bella picked up a piece of fabric, placing it in the evidence bag. Technically, that was the CSI team's job, but they were all currently occupied. "Eric's not a squeamish guy, kinda can't be in our field—but I think he got PTSD from that scene. Not to make light of condition."

"I'm pretty sure we all did in some way..." Leah said, looking into the distance where the downtown Chicago stood, and then at her surroundings: acres of open land, littered with overgrown weeds, the occasional garbage, and cracked pavement. The only infrastructure in the vicinity was a long-abandoned parking lot.

Finding witnesses _or_ footage was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Yeah," Bella said. She picked up a disregarded cigarette butt. Looked recently used—that was something. A sign of life. A sign that someone _had_ to be here. "Still can't get the Dahlia out of my mind."

"Me neither." Leah closed her eyes and deeply breathed in. She opened them and looked ahead— she could pick up a faint scent of perfume. And then, cologne. Something expensive. Cigarette, no, marijuana. Interesting. The scents were getting stronger each step away from the ditch. "ETD?"

"Need more tests," Bella said. "Since KOH— potassium hydroxide— was probably used, time of death could have been recent or even last year... though based on the coloring of the bones, at first glance, it may have been some weeks."

"I'm picking up perfume, cologne, weak..." Leah trailed off and breathed again, deep. "It's not from any of us."

Bella grinned. "Oh, look at you, using your newfound abilities for police work. Do you know how much easier my job would be if I can pick that up? But then again, I've only gotten used to the smell of rotten flesh." Her smile turned into a grimace. "Officially not jealous."

"So, sooner rather than later?"

"Wolves' sense of smell is good, but not good enough to pick up something from months ago. So yeah, I'm guessing sooner... but I don't think it was poured in this area. It's too dry."

"Unless it was done months ago."

"Yeah, but there's no blood. Even with KOH, something would be leftover. And the bones looked bleached." Bella crossed her arms. "Hey, how did you find out about this anyway?"

"Got a tip."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "Arresting the source of that tip?"

Leah shook her head. "Nah, he got nothing to with it," and then amended, "I'm ninety-nine percent sure."

Bella scoffed. "Can't be a hundred percent in this business."

"Ain't that the truth." Leah turned around and headed back to the direction of the growing crowd. "Apparently, there's been another war happening right under our noses for months. Ever since the Volturi bailed."

"Oh wonderful," Bella mumbled, sounding entirely not surprised. "So, I suppose we'll be seeing more of each other in this capacity?"

Leah sighed. "Looks like it."

* * *

"Anything?"

"Besides cigarette butts and a whiff of weed and perfume?" Leah shook her hands, hands in her pockets as she reached Jacob's side. "Nothing?"

"Weed and perfume, huh?"

"Right over there," Leah said, pointing to the area where she and Bella had roamed minutes before. "It's nothing, but it could be something."

"This must've been recent," Jacob decided, rubbing his chin. He dropped his arm. "Our noses are good, but not _that_ good."

"That was exactly what Bella said," Leah stated, glancing across the ditch to where Bella and stood were, kneeling inside, taking pictures, and performing visual examinations. They both looked frustrated. Completely understandable, they indeed had their work cut out for them. They all did. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually miss the gore. Gore provides evidence."

"Ain't that the truth," Jacob said, nodding, and then asked, "But why a ditch full of _bleached bones_? Open in the open?" He turned his attention to the ditch, frowning. "Someone was bound to discover it."

"Maybe that was the point?" Leah suggested. She couldn't see any other reason besides absolute incompetence. "Looks like people are no longer believe in dumping bodies in Lake Michigan." She looked past Jacob. "See anything, Dr. Yorkie?"

Eric stood up and slapped his thighs a couple of times before checking his surroundings. He let out an exasperated sigh. "We're not working with much," he said. "So, he's the thing: we can determine the sex, the age, and whatnot from the bones. Not a problem. May take forever depending on how the lab feels, but it's doable…"

"The issue," Bella followed. "Is the determining the species. Given the fact this is most likely linked to your supernatural problem, normal tests aren't going to determine whether those poor people were humans, vampires—"

"Those weren't vampires," Jacob interrupted. "The sun's been shining bright for the past couple of weeks."

"Or other supernatural beings," Bella revised. "The tests will only say homo sapiens."

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose. "So, what happens next?"

"We have to talk to the boss," Eric said. "See how we can approach this."

"You've dealt with the supernatural before."

"Yes, with other evidence. Blood. Guts. The whole shebang," Bella pointed out. "Not with _just_ bleached bones. And conveniently, no teeth." She shook her head. "If we find out these bones don't belong to humans, then we're going to have to outsource them to experts. Experts, who, according to the law, aren't accredited."

"For obvious reasons," Eric added.

"Do what you gotta do," Jacob said. "If Gennaro is really telling the truth about this war, then we have our work cut out for us. More than we already do."

Leah rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. "Joy."

* * *

Jacob received a call from Bella a couple of hours later, fifteen minutes after the detectives left the crime scene. The medical examiners and about half the crowd remained, chances were, for the rest of the day—Jacob swiped right across his phone screen and put the call on speaker. "Hey, Bella," he greeted.

"Yeah, so we found something that you'd love, considering the circumstances," Bella said in place of a greeting. "A piece of skin attached to the bone. It was pretty well-hidden, so you wouldn't have been able to see it at first or second glance."

Leah let out a sigh of relief as she stopped at the stop sign before driving on.

A piece of skin was _something_.

"Details?" Jacob asked.

"Tan, a couple of shades lighter than you. Shaved, but you can still pick out the hair—"

"DNA!" Leah heard Eric shout out in the background. His excitement was evident. "Finally!"

"_Anyway_," Bella said. Despite not being present, Leah could picture Bella shooing the younger doctor away. "Interestingly enough, it contained the same tattoo found inside Jessica Stanley's wrist. Just half the size."

Both Leah and Jacob audibly gasped—It had been months, practically over a year since they had seen or heard of the tattoo.

"_D.C_.?" Jacob swallowed, exchanging a quick look with his partner. "Denali-Cullen."

"I'm afraid so."

"Holy shit," Leah breathed, bringing her free hand to her mouth. This was huge. This had so many connotations that she didn't even know where to start. "It can be a vampire," she whispered to Jacob, but loud enough for Bella to hear. "The skin wouldn't survive unless it had been obscured from the sun…"

Which could mean that the bodies had been placed within the ditch not too long ago.

"Thanks, Bella. We'll stop by today." Jacob hung up the phone and tossed it on the dashboard in front of him. "Nine fucking bodies," he said, shaking his head. "One may be confirmed as a vampire."

"It never ends, does it?"

"Paul's going to lose his shit."

Leah glanced at Jacob before turning onto a major street. "What else is new?"

* * *

"Thank you, Saint Pierre, for jinxing us!"

Aisha swiveled around her chair, facing Jacob and Leah as they headed in her action. Her expression was full of confusion. "Don't you think it's a little too early to be blaming me for something, Black?" When the detectives reached her, she moved some of her desk contents aside so Leah could sit on the ledge. "What happened _now_?"

"First of all, it's almost lunch, not seven in the morning," Jacob pointed out, sitting on the empty desk in front of Aisha's. "Nine bodies found in a ditch right next to Midway."

"It was nine bodies of _bones_ discovered in a ditch," Leah corrected immediately. "And it wasn't right _next_ to Midway. It was relatively close by in West Lawn."

Jacob wave dismissively. "Semantics."

"What the hell are you talking about—" Aisha stopped when her eyes fell upon the crime scene photo Jacob was holding to her face. Her eyes widened. "Oh." She pulled the page from Jacob's grasp. "All human?"

"We don't know," Jacob said. "We're waiting for unofficial confirmation from Bella and her crew."

"Does our fearless leader now about this?"

"He will soon," Leah said, not exactly looking forward to that conversation. She jerked her head in the direction of the captain's office. "Wanna witness the fallout? He's going to _love_ this."

He was going to _lose_ his ever-loving mind.

Aisha returned the photos to Jacob, letting out a sigh. "I suppose I should tag along."

"And bring Embry and Martinez," Jacob said, standing up. "I have a bad feeling they're going to dragged into this mess, too."

Aisha cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because Victoria's people used to patrol this area," Leah explained, hoping and praying what was left of the coven wasn't involved. "It's currently up for grabs."

* * *

"How the _fuck_ did we not know about this?"

"Because the department, as a whole, only cares about humans living downtown and up?" Embry offered, trying to bring levity to the tense atmosphere, but judging on the glare Paul sent his way, he fell flat. "Not to say that was the case…"

Paul ran a hand down his face and asked, "How many do we have so far?"

"Nine," Leah said.

"All found inside a ditch," Jacob added. "Mass grave near the shipping years—"

"Midway," Leah corrected. "Next to an abandoned parking lot."

"That's what I meant to say," Jacob remarked, sending Leah a grateful look. Paul wasn't in the mood for receiving erroneous information.

"Why didn't the killers just drop the bodies, or ones, in the lake?" Martinez asked. "Do you know there's still shipwrecks inside people can't find in that place?"

"It's not called a great lake for nothing," Aisha said, then asked the captain, "Do you think they're trying to send a message?"

"_Of course_, they're sending a message."

"But who's _they_?" Martinez asked.

"How the hell should I know?" Paul threw up his hands. "Listen, we need to find out who were the victims before we start auditioning suspects," he said with quiet intensity, making eye contact with as many people as he could. "At least moment, the perps could be _anyone_."

"We do know one of the vampires was a vampire. Maybe," Leah said. "Possibly associated with the Olympic coven. A piece of skin was discovered in the crime scene area, marked with the same tattoo found inside Jessica Stanley's wrist: _D.C_."

"Denali-Cullen," Aisha quietly said, then looked up, alarmed. "Oh, they're _not_ going to be happy when they find this out."

"Saint Pierre and Call, see if there's been any action on the Olympic front. I know they've been making a concerted effort to be legit, but a murder can make them return to their old ways," Paul ordered. "Martinez, deal with the Fangs. I know they are looking into moving into Victoria's old territory for months. Black and Clear, see if our favorite ATF agent knows anything. And give me a damn update on the autopsies."

* * *

"We're still searching for a DNA match on the skin," Bella told the detectives the next morning as she led them to her lab. "But I think we've found something even more interesting—off the books, of course." Once inside, she directed Eric to hand over the necessary documentation. After reviewing them, she handed the packet to Jacob. "There's something particular about those bones."

Leah tilted her head—she didn't like the sound of that.

Jacob scanned reports, stopping at the hand-written one. He read it over a couple of times before handing the pages to his partner. "None are humans," he said. "Only one was a vampire…"

"And the rest were possibly shapeshifters," Bella finished. "The bones, what we found are consistent with findings from the slaughterhouse killings. One vampire and the rest, most likely werewolves."

"_Fuck_," Jacob bit out.

Leah closed her eyes and sighed.

"You were right," Bella carried on. "All shot execution-style, possibly while kneeling. Except for one—this one was shot through the temple. The vampire, who, by the way, was bit with a UV. You can tell by the entrance and exit wounds; all burned through."

"Yep, UV, alright," Jacob said. "Fuck."

"We may not be detectives, but this smells like a classic gang hit," Eric said. "They were discovered in Victoria's former territory. Isn't that land up for grabs?"

Leah and Jacob shared a look.

Those shapeshifters could've been members of the Fangs, or at least, its allies. Rival gangs were fighting over the prime territory, including the Volturi, including the Velasquez Cartel—Shit, it a gang hit wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

But Leah could've _sworn_ the Fangs were avoiding Chicago like the Bubonic plague until the heat died down.

Perhaps not.

Bella lifted an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Thank you for this," Jacob told the coroner, glancing at Leah once more. She was just as concerned as him. "We appreciate it, and will definitely follow up on the shapeshifters." He threaded a hand through his short hair. "Keep us posted on the piece of skin, yeah?"

"Of course."

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me," was Paul's response once informed of the Office of the Medical Examiner's findings. "One vampire. The rest shapeshifters. Anyone has any insight into this BS?"

All of the captain's office occupants turned their attention to Jacob, who, in turn, informed everyone that, "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a shapeshifter-gangster expert." He crossed his arms, ready to defend himself even more until he caught sight of Paul's disapproving expression. "I'll ask around."

"Do that," Paul said, nodding. "This points to the victims being linked to the Fangs. Martinez, I thought they were trying to be smart for once by staying out of Chicago?"

Martinez shrugged. "Evidently not." He looked at Jacob. "Got anything?"

"I don't exactly have access to their team meetings," Jacob grumbled, then, "Look, I see what I can do. It's not gonna be easy, though. They don't believe in talking to cops."

"Not even you?" Martinez asked.

"Especially not me," Jacob insisted. He tried to sound casual about it, but he wasn't fooling anyone. "It's complicated."

* * *

"You sure you want me to come along?" Leah asked Jacob, exiting the car. She slammed the door behind her and glanced behind her, across the street at the second-handed bookstore. It was almost closing time, a little after seven in the evening. From the looks of it, the only other person inside the store was Manny.

This was good, she decided. The fewer people, the better.

"You're my partner," Jacob said. He gave Leah a look of bewilderment before locking the car. He pocketed his keys and started walking over. "Why wouldn't I? Anyway, Wilson likes you."

Leah scoffed as she followed Jacob across the street and into the bookstore. "I think he only tolerates me because I'm with you."

They walked past Manny, who, as usual, didn't look too thrilled to see the detectives' faces, but he didn't protest their visit. Chuckling at the young man's sour attitude, Jacob led Leah up the stairs towards Wilson's office. "Trust, you'd know if he couldn't stand your guts," he assured Leah. "He isn't always the nicest man."

"If you say, so—"

"_I can't say I'm too surprised to see your faces_," Wilson called out, watching the detectives as they reached the top of the stairs.

"Good evening to you, too, old man," Jacob greeted once he stood a few feet from the shopkeeper and his office. After Leah and Wilson exchanged the usual pleasantries, Jacob carried on, "We gotta talk."

"If you don't mind," Leah added.

Wilson raised an eyebrow, and then nodded. "Come on in, then," he said in a calm voice, stepping aside.

While the detectives took a seat at the table inside the main room, Wilson went to the pantry. He pulled out a few glasses from the cabinet and a flask of liquor from the small fridge—laced with wolfbane, Leah observed.

So, did Jacob. "Wolfbane on the job, old man?" he asked, eyeing the flask with amusement.

Wilson snorted as he removed the cork from the bottle and poured its contents into a mug. "I'm retired, and the occasion calls for some WB, doesn't it?" He pointed the flash at Leah. "You?" After she politely declined, he turned to Jacob. "And you?"

Jacob shook his head. "Nah."

The older man shrugged and took a long sip before sitting at the table with the detectives, "Your loss."

"What occasion?" Leah asked.

"You're here, aren't you?" Wilson leaned back in his seat, face not hiding the satisfaction at the silence that followed. "I figure you'd want to talk about your most recent finding in West Lawn."

Leah couldn't say she was surprised that Wilson knew about the killings. Despite so-called being out of the game, he still had eyes all over the city, and people willing to tell him information. Nothing went past him—she was impressed.

"What do you know about it?" Jacob asked.

"I know Collins knows, and that he's not too happy," Wilson said. "Eight of his own people, sent to Chicago to survey Victoria's land and tie up some loose ends. It was supposed to be a damn day trip, maybe two."

Jacob crossed his arms across his chest, dropping his chin in a deep frown. "I _told_ them to keep their asses outta Chicago…" he mumbled under his breath.

Leah placed a sympathetic hand on Jacob's knee, tapping it a couple of times. Dealing with family; a blessing and a curse. Jacob was in a tough spot; he obviously still had love for his for cousin and other Fangs-linked family members, despite what he liked everyone to believe.

"When was this trip supposed to happen?" Leah asked Wilson.

"About two weeks ago," the older man said, shooting Jacob a quick, concerned look. He then sucked his teeth and carried on, "Personally, I didn't think much of it until this a couple of days ago." He frowned. "The Fangs are known for taking their sweet time when it comes to delivering the news—I assume you're on the case?"

Jacob didn't deny it. "They were found in Chicago, and none were human." He rolled his eyes. "Of course, we're on the job."

Wilson raised both eyebrows as he drained the rest of his drink.

"How does Collin know the victims were his associates?" Leah asked. "Not all shapeshifters work for the Fangs."

Jacob waited for an answer.

Wilson poured more liquor into his mug. "The Fangs have been making moves to improve their image. After all of the slaughterhouse-drama, some started to lose some faith in them. So, in efforts to prove that are willing to work with anyone for the love of money, they entered an agreement with the Olympic—The ninth body belonged to a vampire, yes?"

"Do you know who this vampire was?" Jacob asked.

"No," Wilson shook his head. "Couldn't be anyone too important. Esme isn't stupid."

"What kind of agreement?" Leah asked. "Something so that they can share the land?"

"Share the land?" Wilson let out a short laugh. "Of course, not. They're probably banding together only to take out a common enemy."

"The Volturi," Jacob concluded.

"They're in Moldova, but doesn't mean their stench has gone away," Wilson said. "I'd watch out for your cousin, though. He's very protective of the family, and yes, he believes the Volturi killed his cousin."

Leah turned to Jacob, alarmed.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

"Which one?"

"Eric."

"You've gotta be shitting me," Jacob spat, delivering a hard slap to the table. "Why would he send him here? Everyone knows the Volturi has it out for Eric after that last stunt he pulled. I thought Collin had sent him out west?"

"Maybe Collin thought the incident was sent under the bridge," Wilson shrugged with a shrug. "Maybe he thought that after giving them money and their services, the Volturi would forget." He took a drink. "Though, something tells me that this grudge wasn't the reason behind the killings."

"Was it really about the land?" Leah asked. "I know everyone's fighting over it."

Wilson shrugged.

"People are going to know about this conversation," Jacob told Wilson, genuinely concerned for the man's wellbeing. "You're fine with that?"

"They're not my concern," was Wilson's cool response. "My concern is your cousin raising Hell. The West Side's been plagued with enough gang violence. We don't need anymore. Especially while the most important members of the Volturi on another continent."

* * *

"Black and Clearwater, nice to see you, as always!"

Jacob pulled up two chairs from the adjacent desks, one for him and the other for Leah. "The Fangs. They're pissed," he told Martinez, going straight to the point. "They believe the bodies, the bones, belonged to their friends."

"Except for the vampire," Leah added. "Of course."

Martinez wasn't surprised. "Well, finding several members of your gang in a ditch would make anyone mad…" He sat up in his seat. "How pissed off?"

"Like Collin's ready to come out of hiding and declare war-pissed," Jacob said. "Apparently, his cousin_, not related to me_, has been missing for a while. Was sent to the West Side for some re-con."

Martinez's eyes widened. "Oh, snap."

"Collin's suspecting this is the work of the Volturi. I don't think they were too happy about the handling of the slaughterhouse killings. Among other things," Leah continued. "Victoria's out of the picture. The Olympic, under Esme, is trying to re-invent themselves, so…."

"The Volturi probably had a hand in it," Jacob finished. "Or Maria."

Martinez's eyebrows drew together. "Isn't she stuck in Mexico?"

"She is, but not her entire operation," Jacob said. "Plus, there are rumors that she's trying to make a comeback in Chicago, particularly in the blood market. And for some dumb reason, the Fangs are trying to take a stab at it, as well." He shook his head. "That's all we have right now. I know some people who aren't willing to testify, for obvious reasons, but are willing to spill some beans. A lot of shit's going down."

Martinez slowly nodded and suddenly put on a dopey smile. He glanced at Leah and asked with a smile. "Can I steal your partner? Am I allowed to do that?"

Jacob let out a hearty laugh.

Leah appreciated the sentiment. After all, Jacob did come with some useful information, but that didn't mean she was going to give her partner up that easily. "No," she said with finality. "Plus, don't you already have a partner?"

"There's nothing wrong with having _two_ partners," Martinez informed Leah with a smirk. "It's 2019, Clearwater. Be more open-minded."

Jacob gave her a pointed look.

"How polyamorous of you," was Leah's deadpanned reply.

Martinez looked at Jacob, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm honored by your request," Jacob said, placing a hand over his heart. He let out a dramatic sigh. "_Really_. But the boss said no." He shrugged, feigning helplessness. "What I can I do with that? I'm only a one-woman kind of guy."

Leah snorted.

Martinez wiped invisible tears from his eyes. "_Damn_." He then cleared his throat, putting all jokes aside. "So, Collin's cousin… really?"

Leah wanted to clarify that, "It's only a rumor."

"We haven't been able to positively ID anyone yet," Jacob said. "But we do know that all of the victims, save for one, were shapeshifters. Wolves?"

"Any of them phased?"

"Two were about to," Leah said. "You remember that wolf from the slaughterhouse, the one killed mid-transformation? Someone's had to have made that shot."

"You mean a vamp?"

"I don't know," Leah admitted with a shrug. "Maybe?"

"Most likely," Jacob added.

"When are they going to make their move?"

"We're trying to make sure that doesn't happen," Jacob said. "Wilson says he and some of his friends from back in the day are working on keeping the peace. There's not much they can do with the Volturi being overseas."

"And they're sure the Volturi did it?"

"That's what they believe," Leah said.

"Can you talk to your cousin face-to-face?"

"We don't talk," Jacob gritted, crossing his arms.

Leah didn't say anything.

Martinez's suggestion did make sense; Jacob had the easiest access to the Fangs just by being alive, but that whole thing was always touchy. Sometimes, Leah wondered if Jacob regretted being related to the founders and the current leader of the motorcycle gang in the first place.

She sent Martinez a warning look.

Martinez didn't back off. "Is there a possibility that there can be a possibility that you two can have a conversation?" he asked carefully. "I know you two don't have the best relationship, and naturally, he's not too fond of your employment of choice… But some of his guys were just killed, and we're looking to find their killers. Hell, you never know, maybe he could provide some insight?"

Jacob dropped his arms. "I'll see what I can do," he grumbled. "But I'm not promising anything. As you said, we're not the best of friends—"

"Let's see what Paul says," Leah offered. "We don't want to do anything stupid or without backing. We have to make sure that conflict of interest won't be an issue." She looked at Jacob, who was still frowning. "Fine with you?"

"Yeah."

* * *

"It would've been nice if these bodies were deposited somewhere outside of Chicago. For the sake of my ever-increasing workload," Jenks said sometime later with some forced amusement, but under his joking manner was exasperation. "Are you sure these were found within city limits?"

Leah wasn't supposed to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help it. Jenks was inside Paul's office; they were both discussing the discovery of the new crime scene. It wasn't like Paul was shutting her out. He damn well knew she could overhear his conversation with the prosecutor.

"Yes," Paul confirmed. "Right in Green Lawn."

Jenks sighed. "I think I've been cursed."

"This damn city's been cursed," Paul said. "Give us something, Counselor. We have reason to believe that those bodies, bones, are liked to members of the Olympic and the Fangs—You know what that means."

"Of course, I do."

"We don't have the manpower to tackle this coven problem," Paul carried on, heated. He hated to admit that he was at a disadvantage, but frankly, at this point, he couldn't deny it. "I don't even think the feds do. There isn't exactly a division dedicated to supernatural crimes.

Leah wondered if the feds would end up creating one.

Once the cat was officially out of the bag without the general public raising Hell, of course.

"Then what do you suggest, _Counselor_?"

"Think outside of the box, Captain," Jenks said. "You always do."


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

* * *

"I may have a name for the lone vampire found in that ditch—Emphasis on the word _may_," Wilson told Leah and Jacob as he dug into the top drawer of his office's file cabinet. He stopped, pulled out a piece of paper, and scanned it with a nod before slamming the drawer closed. He handed the page to one closest to him, Leah, and continued, "Garrett—I don't know his last name, but I know he wasn't a newborn."

Leah muttered thanks as she reviewed the page. Garrett. She had heard of him. He was a member of the Denali family, but that was her extent of—_Shit_. Leah gave Jacob an expectant look before handing him the piece of paper. He reviewed it as well.

Wilson, seemingly satisfied by the detectives' silence, added, "You've heard of him."

"_Of_ him," Jacob stressed, giving the page to Wilson. "What the hell was he doing with the Fangs? Was he some goddamn real estate agent? He did know he was working with wolves, right?"

Leah waited for an answer.

"As I told you," Wilson said, taking a seat at the table. With a swoop of a hand, he invited the detectives to join him. "The Olympic and the Fangs must be banding together to fight a common enemy."

Jacob removed his jacket and hung it along the back of a chair before sitting down, almost slouching with one leg crossed. He was relaxed as if in the middle of a conversation with one of his buddies,

Leah sat up straight, stiff in her own seat. She didn't know Wilson since childhood like the man next to her. She couldn't afford to let her guard down. "Do you know that for sure?" she asked. "An alliance between two gangs who've historically couldn't stand each other?"

"Wouldn't that make sense?"

Jacob snorted before Leah could respond, "So, I take that as a yes?"

Wilson shrugged. "You didn't hear that from me."

So, it was a yes.

"How about a motive?" Leah asked, pulling out a notepad and pen from inside of her rain jacket. She flipped to an empty page. "I'm not talking about the killings. Those were gang-related; that's what they do… but the resting place? Inside a ditch with _just_ _bones_? If you wanna get rid of somehow, wouldn't it make sense to dump them into the lake? Not leave them be out in the open, where we would find them?"

Wilson gulped down some of his drink.

"How about it, old man?"

"I suppose it was to prove that they ain't playing," Wilson offered, noncommittal. "It's a very common war tactic. Show the enemy what you're capable of and wait for a response. Some may retreat and offer peace. Some may not give a damn and press on."

"That must be some valuable land…" Jacob muttered, sitting up.

"Land near airports always is," Wilson reminded the detective. "Speaking of airports, some fools tried to pull a second-coming of the 1978 Lufthansa Heist, but this time only came out with one hundred thousand. I'm sure the feds are looking into it." He paused. "That particular flight was a connecting flight with four legs: one from Seattle to Chicago, then here to JFK. JFK to Milan. Milan to Chisinau Airport, the international airport of Moldova."

_Moldova_.

Leah and Jacob shared a look; it was a quick one, but it showed d they were thinking the same thing: the stolen goods could've belonged to the Volturi, and there might be a Volturi presence in the Pacific-Northwest. Great.

Leah had heard about the heist. Anyone not living under a rock knew about the heist when it was first reported. Unfortunately, it had been a one-day news event, virtually brushed under the rug the following day. So buried that not even social media gave a damn—The Feds probably wanted it that way, Leah concluded, and with the possible connection to the Fangs, the Volturi, and _all that drama_, she couldn't blame them.

"All that for _a_ _hundred grand_?" Jacob asked, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Like I said: fools."

"Yeah," Leah agreed. "Not the smartest move."

"Sure you don't wanna be an informant, old man?" Jacob asked with some amusement in his voice, as if he already knew the answer. "You've been giving us a lot more info than you should."

Wilson scoffed at the thought. "Not for me. I'm only here to prevent another war. Maybe even become the hero." His mouth turned up a fraction of an inch. "Collin's convinced everything would work out in the end," he added.

Leah raised an eyebrow. "So, you've _heard_ from him."

"It's all hearsay," Wilson insisted. "I heard those words from another. I haven't seen the man in a very long time, and I intend to keep it that way."

"You and me both," Jacob remarked.

"I don't think you and your friends have much a choice in that arena," Wilson said, giving Jacob a knowing look. "I'm surprised he hasn't made an appearance yet."

"I hear he's making a concerted effort to keep out of Chicago," Leah said. "Worried that CPD will take him in."

"I'm sure the esteemed Chicago Police Department has bigger fish to fry," Wilson said. "The Fangs are a problem, but they ain't the Volturi."

"That's for damn sure," Jacob grumbled, then, "Heard any news about them?"

"Honestly, no," Wilson said, shaking his head. "I know some of their people are still roaming around. You can't just pick up and leave without a trace like that."

"Collin still believes the Volturi had something to do with the bodies found near Midway?" Leah asked.

"He still insists that they were the culprits—I can't say I blame him."

* * *

"Is this all a part of a master plan to take all of the glory from me?" Martinez wondered with exaggerated suspicion while in the middle of receiving a morning update from Leah and Jacob. "The Fangs are supposed to be _mine_."

Leah took a sip of her coffee while Jacob snorted. "Look, are you gonna be all territorial, or do you want to get more information?" he asked.

"Continue—Clearwater, partner swap option's still on the table."

"You just…" Leah leered down at Martinez. "_No_."

Martinez put up both hands, trying to keep the peace. "Okay, fine," he said, and then to Jacob, "Who are you getting this information from?"

"A confidential source."

Martinez gave Jacob an unimpressed look. He then checked with Leah, hoping he would get some kind of answer from her. He did not. "Seriously?" he groaned.

Jacob shrugged. "I got a promise to uphold," he said, trying to sound apologetic, but the amusement in his eyes fooled no one. "It's someone from way back."

Martinez snorted. "In your case, that doesn't help me much."

Jacob smirked. "I know."

"Go to Hell," Martinez spat without any heat. He looked up and pointed at Leah. "Clearwater, I take back my request."

Jacob threw up his hands.

"Not like I was going to honor it anyway," Leah returned, narrowing her eyes, and then, as if chastising a child (or Seth), "Jacob, play nice. We need Martinez."

"_Thank you_," Martinez said before dropping the amusing act. "It sounds like the Fangs stole from the wrong plane. I'll talk to a couple of buddies at the Bureau and see if they can add to the story. Sure, it could've only been about the money, but doing all of that for a hundred large?" He shook his head. "The Volturi is one of the richest covens in the world. A hundred grand is _nothing_ to them."

Leah did wonder that as well. The Volturi were big earners and spenders. They had so much money, they made Pablo Escobar and the Medellin Cartel look like middle-class entrepreneurs.

"Thanks, man," Jacob said, bumping fists with the detective.

"I think those pendejos have been watching Goodfellas way too many times," Martinez said, leaning back in his seat with his hands folded behind his head. "All while completely forgetting what happened in the end." He snorted. "So, tell me: who's Henry Hill?"

The snitch.

"We don't know," Jacob admitted.

"Who's Jimmy the Gent?"

The mastermind.

"We don't know that either."

Martinez leaned forward. "What _do_ you know?"

Jacob gave Martinez the finger before they both burst into laughter.

Leah rolled her eyes at the exchange. "But if we're sticking to this theory," she said once the laughter died down. "Then, we can assume that the man found in that ditch had something to do with the heist." She looked at Jacob. "You think Collin's cousin, Eric, was Jimmy Burke? He could've pitched the idea and got approval because he's related to the boss?"

"It's possible," Jacob said. "But unless things have drastically changed in the past few years, Eric was only around because he was a cousin. Eric had enthusiasm, but not enough moxy to roll with the big boys."

"I got nothing much on him," Martinez added. "According to my people on the West Side, they've never heard of the man roaming around Chicago. He worked primarily out west in Tacoma, Washington."

"Isn't that where the airport is?" Leah looked in her partner's direction. "You really don't think Eric was brains behind this operation?"

"I'm not saying _no_," Jacob maintained. "I just find it hard to believe."

"Maybe that's why the heist was a dud, relatively speaking," Martinez suggested, earning a nod from Leah. "I mean, a hundred grand is some good money, but if I'm gonna commit to the 2019-version of _the_ Lufthansa heist, then I'm aiming higher. I'm talking in the _millions_."

* * *

"You _know_ how much I hate dealing with the Bureau…"

"Are you telling us that after all this time, you don't have a friend in that agency?" Jacob asked, incredulous.

"You may need to work on your people skills," Leah added, amused. "No offense, Captain."

"I do have a few agents I don't mind, but they're all in San Fran," Paul said with a shrug. "Chicago isn't in their jurisdiction."

"I'm sorry," Jacob said.

"It's fine. That's what I get for taking this job," Paul said with a dismissive wave. He then clapped. "So, you think the heist was the motive for the killings?"

"Yes."

"It's a good theory," Paul said, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "A hundred grand, no matter how you slice it, is a lot of money. If I were the Volturi, I'd be a little pissed off, too. Then again, that amount is like pocket change to them—Have we been able to identify any of the victims, save for Eric and possibly Garrett?"

"No," Leah told the captain, shaking her head. "Also, Forensics is having an issue trying to find a match. Dental traces are impossible due to the lack of teeth. The piece of skin found at the scene still doesn't have a match. But if it truly belongs to Garett, the lack of record makes sense. The Denali is an old coven. None of its members are less than two hundred years old."

"And my source told us that Garrett wasn't a newborn," Jacob added.

"Source?" Paul questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You can use names, you know," he said with a smirk. "I know who he is—How's the old man doing anyway? Still running that second-hand bookstore?"

"Trying to stop an armed conflict."

"Good for him," Paul said with a nod. "Did you manage to convince him to become an official informant?"

"Not interested," Jacob replied. "The idea of testifying in a grand jury and trial doesn't appeal to him."

Personally, Leah preferred Wilson _not_ to be an official informant.

"Smart man," Paul said. "And good work, by the way. The both of you. Now, we have a motive, and it's a damn good one. The problem is we don't have an official suspect. The man could've hopped on a plan to Moldova for all we know."

"What do you want us to do?" Leah asked. "This case isn't technically ours. It concerns the Fangs; that's Martinez's territory."

Jacob waited for an answer.

"You two are going work with him," Paul decided. "Martinez will handle the usual gang-related matters, and you two, being homicide detectives, will look into the actual killings." He looked at Jacob. "You're good with his?"

Jacob shrugged. "It's my job."

Paul cast an unimpressed look on his detective. "That's not an answer," he criticized, not playing around. Leah liked that. "If this is going to be a problem, I'll take you off the case. The last thing I need is for you to be in the middle of a family throwdown."

"It is what it is, Captain," Jacob said, trying to play it cool, but both Leah and Paul could sense the apprehension. "Anyway, it's not like we're getting involved in gang politics. That's Martinez's arena, and he can stay in it. Leah and I, we're only trying to solve a murder. That's it."

* * *

"Look after him, will ya?"

It didn't take a genius to know _whom_ Paul was talking about.

Leah was a bit taken aback. The captain wasn't the kind to worry; he prided himself (and often teased) Jacob about that fact, which was why Leah was more concerned than usual by the comment. Thinking back, she couldn't recall Jacob mentioning anything that would lead her to believe he was trouble—but then again, she hadn't seen or heard of him since the morning for he was at court, making an appearance at a trial.

She put on an assuring smile, tapping the man a couple of times. No one was around, thankfully. "I'm offended that you even had to tell me that," she said. "I will."

Paul's nod was stiff, but the man did seem more at peace. "A part of me wants to take him off the case," he admitted. "But if there's anyone who can get information on the Fangs, even more than Martinez, it's him."

"Then he can do some gang work," Leah suggested, though she didn't want to let Jacob go. She liked having him by her side; she had gotten used to his presence. "I'm sure Martinez would appreciate that."

Paul shook his head. "No, I don't want to put in that position. Family drama is always a mess, and I don't want him to get caught in it. Just solve the murders and move on."

Leah sighed. That was wishful thinking. "You know it's going to happen that way."

"Well, I gotta try my best, don't I?" Paul replied, frustration evident in his voice. It wasn't directed towards Leah; he had a lot on his plate and more than thirty subordinates to worry about. "I gotta look out for my people."

Leah always appreciated that about the captain. "No, I understand, and thank you." She gave him a warm smile. "We all at the Voldemort Unit appreciate your concern for our wellbeing."

"Yeah, no problem," Paul said, shrugging off the compliment. It was an odd time to be humble, Leah thought. The captain smiled. "The Voldemort Unit, I can't believe they let us keep the name. It was supposed to be a joke."

"I don't know," Leah said with a light chuckle. "I think it fits."

"Yeah…" Paul agreed. He then looked down at his detective, serious. "Leah, take care of yourself. _Please_."

"Don't worry, Captain, I'm not going to pull another tunnel-stunt ever again. Those days are over," Leah promised. She added a chuckle to make light of the situation but stopped the moment she realized that Paul wasn't amused. She cleared her throat, rubbing her hands together, trying to find the right words to follow up with. "Plus," she said. "I have Jacob at my side."

Paul didn't find any comfort in Leah's words. "Yeah, I know," he said with a frown. "That's what I'm concerned about. I don't need Internal Affairs rolling up in here because one of my detectives thinks he's Rambo."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "_Paul_, this is Jacob, we're talking about," she reminded the captain. "That's not this thing. He's no _Rambo_."

The captain let out a humorless chuckle. "Maybe, but I have a feeling all bets are off when you're concerned."

Leah gulped. "What—"

"_Hey, Captain_!" Jared called out, peeking from behind a column down the hall. He waved around a note. "Bureau's on the phone. I think they're interested in the Green Lawn murders!"

"About damn time they're calling," Paul grumbled, though he couldn't find his relieved grin. "Gimme a sec!" told Jared.

He then looked down at Leah, eyes practically pleading. "Please, attention to what I just said. _Please_."

Leah fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew Paul was coming from a good place, but she damn it, she did know _how_ to listen, thank you. Throughout her tenure at CPD, she had only been called out for insubordination a handful of times. Which, compared to the rest of the force, was below average—Leah nodded, but it took her a moment to find her voice," Yeah, of course."

* * *

Bumping her the back of her head against the of the metal elevator interior wall, Leah watched out aimlessly as she machine stopped on each floor. She only had to travel up five floors—why was this taking so damn long? The people, it was always the people, entering and leaving, holding up the elevator so their companion could hop on. Family members, doctors, nurses, even some cops Leah could've sworn she had seen before. She ignored them all; she wasn't in any mood to engage in small talk. She was tired from a long, hard day at work, and her mind was elsewhere.

She hated this place. And tell inescapable stench of medicine mixed with bodily fluids, body order, perfume and... death. Somehow, it was worse than walking through a crime scene, and—

The vibration from her phone pulled Leah out her trance. She checked it, a text message, and smiled. It was from Valentina, who was visiting downtown Chicago for a few days for a teacher's conference.

_I know last minute but Happy Hour tonight? Half off drinks._

The offer was enticing, especially after the week Leah had. But she had to decline the invite; only a couple of hours had passed since receiving the dreading voice mail message from her mother, requesting her presence at the hospital later that night. It wasn't like Leah could say _no_. She would never say no. Not for this.

_No can do. Family business. _

_Is everything okay?_

_Hope so. _

* * *

"How is he?"

Sue looked up at her daughter and gave a small, sad smile before standing up. She pulled Leah into a tight hug. Moments passed before Sue let go of her daughter and led her to the hospital room where Abel was currently residing. He had been there since the early morning, Sue told Leah and would remain there for the rest of the week, perhaps even the next.

"They said he has RSV," she quietly told Leah as they both stared into the room through the partially obscured window. "Respiratory Syncytial Virus. It's an infection that behaves like a cold with irritability in the lungs. It causes issues with breathing…" She trailed off, scratching the side of her neck, an indication that she was stressed. "I'm not a doctor, though," She added with a sigh.

Leah's attention remained on the action inside the hospital room. A nurse was present, checking the baby's vitals. Emily was in there, as well; she was completely beside her self—eventually, Leah looked away. It pained her to see Abel in the hospital bed, strapped to an IV and oxygen.

"You just missed your aunt," Sue said, following a moment of tense silence. "She's picking up some dinner. Sam was here earlier; he'll return in an hour or so." She glanced at her daughter, wary. "Did you see him at work?"

"We don't work together, mom."

Sue slowly nodded. "He's staying overnight, I believe." She then took a step forward, expression distraught. "The doctors are convinced that Abel will be fine. Apparently, it's one of the most common illnesses for babies…" her words stalled as she watched the nurse say some words to Embry before walking towards the exit.

Emily stood up from her chair to kneel next to her son. She ran the back of her hand along the baby's soft but slightly discolored cheek. When she looked up, she notified Leah; her eyes widened astronomically, and Leah could hear her gasp. Emily stood up, brushed the invisible dirt off her capris, planted a kiss on her son's forehead, and headed out of the room.

"Good news?" Sue asked the moment her niece entered the hallway.

Emily forced a smile and nodded, softly closing the door behind her. "The nurse gave him his medicine and checked his vitals," she quietly said, gazed glue to the floor. Whether it was due to grief or just her being in the presence of Leah couldn't be determined. "She didn't seem too alarmed, which is good… I guess." She bit her lip and tried to blink away her tears. "I just want him to feel better."

So, did Leah.

Sue pulled her niece into a hug. "I'll be fine," she promised.

Emily nodded and took a step back after her aunt released her from her hold. She looked beyond Sue to where Leah stood. "Hello, Leah," she greeted, tone polite but stiff.

Leah didn't fare any better. "Hello."

Sue looked between the two women, picked up her purse from the chair. "I have to go to the ladies' room," she announced. "I'll be back."

Leah knew what her mother was doing.

Silence fell between the cousins. Emily was trying her darnedest to look at anything and everything that wasn't the woman in front of her, and Leah? She soon couldn't take the silence anymore. She asked an obvious question. "How is he?"

Emily looked up Leah's way and swallowed, glancing at her son's room. "Stable, but he's going to be here for some time." She shook her head. "It's been crazy. First, his father was in a coma, and now, this."

"Sam ended being fine," Leah said, trying to be sympathetic. Not the easiest thing—Not about Abel, of course. She only wished the best for the little boy. "I'm sure Abel will as well…"

Emily's smile was genuine. "Thank you," she said. "I just can't—" She cleared her throat. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Leah blinked a couple of times, very much taken aback. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, offended. She wasn't some heartless bitch. "He's family. I have no reason _not_ to be here."

"I know you sent Sam and me—"

"With all due respect, Emily, this isn't about you," Leah said in a stern voice. She needed to make that point very clear. "It's about that little boy in there. My cousin." For a brief time, also her step-son. "That's all."

Emily gulped. "Leah, I'm sorry for—"

Leah put up a hand, effectively silencing her cousin. "_Don't_," she demanded. She wasn't here for apologies. "Is there anything you'd like me to get?" she asked. "For you? For Abel?"

Emily stood up straight. "No," she said in a stiff voice. "I'm good. Thank you."

* * *

Leah didn't _mean_ to eavesdrop, especially when she had a handful of reports to finish within the hour, but the meeting currently happening inside Paul's office was too important to ignore. The feds were in there with Paul. Barba was in there. So was Paul's immediate supervisor, the commander, was present, and so was Jenks.

They were talking about Jane.

Carolina Barba wanted to know who the "start informant" was.

Paul was coy about the revelation, for obvious reasons. "It's a Volturi turncoat," he said, tone walking the line between bitterness and frustration. His relationship with the US attorney was even more possible than his with the feds. An amazing feat. "That's all I'm providing right now. You're the federal government; I'm sure you can find out who I'm talking about."

"I should ask you the same question," the commander, not Paul, sharply replied. "And I'd think you of all people would be grateful, for once. You've been taking all of our suspects—"

"They violated _federal_ _law_," Carolina interjected. "Plus, this county doesn't have the proper facilities to store your kind."

Leah closed her eyes as she heard Paul loudly slid back his chair. She could picture him standing up, fists clenched, and willing to express his views in a very passionate manner.

"_My kind_?"

Oh, fuck.

"Paul, _Carolina_, let's not go there, please?" Jacob suggested calmly, trying to play peace-keeper. "We're on the same team, remember? We all want to get to the bottom of this mess."

"He's right," the commander added.

"I apologize, Captain, for my choice of words. I did not mean to offend you," Carolina said, not exactly sounding apologetic. But then again, she was known for being an impenetrable bull, too stubborn to back off. In a way, just like Paul. Perhaps that was why they clashed so much. "Cook County does not have the facilities to incarcerate _non_-_humans_. I don't believe unleashing vampires and such into the general prison population is wise."

Leah snorted.

No, shit.

"I assume you are referring to Jane?" the agent asked. The question was more rhetorical, which only provided Paul's point that the federal agency was well-aware of the former Volturi guard's cooperation with the Chicago Police Department.

"I cannot confirm—"

The commander jumped in. "Yes, that's exactly whom we're talking about." Even from her distance, Leah could hear the growl forming in the captain's throat and could imagine the commander reminding Paul with a sharp look that, yes, he knew what the fuck he was doing. "She's been working with CPD way before you guys got hold of it. She has good report with Captain Lahote's unit and has proven to be very helpful to its cause. Unfortunately, due to complications, all of her information can only be used for leads. We cannot submit anything into evidence—am I right, Captain?"

"Yes."

Leah smiled to herself as she finished typing up her second to the last paragraph.

"You want us to give an okay?" Carolina asked.

"We want you not to us tie hands behind our backs," Paul said. "We've agreed to work with the feds' new initiative designed to combat the Volturi. This is the least you guys can do for us. After all, as the commander said, we got to her _first_."

Leah lifted an eyebrow.

_New_ _initiative_?

"What will be testimony be used for?" Carolina wondered. "Who are you trying to convict?"

"If possible, everyone," Jenks said before anyone could utter a word. "With all due respect, Barba, these covens have been raising Hill in Chicago for years. Therefore, it would make perfect sense for them to be persecuted in Cook County."

Carolina let out a frustrated huff. "I _understand_ that, but this leads to my previous point: Cook County can't hold the supernatural."

"Doesn't have to," Jenks argued. "Didn't New York just send someone to Alcatraz? The man was convicted and sentenced in state court for murder."

"Well, then, prosecuting those imbeciles in Cook County shouldn't be a problem," the commander remarked; the comment was directed at the federal prosecutor. "Right?"

Leah held her breath, waiting for a response. She only could imagine the look Barba was sending the commander's way. It wouldn't be a pleasant one.

"I will have my team look into the matter," Carolina replied, voice tight. The conversation hadn't turned out the way she had hoped, Leah deduced. She was trapped, not that Barba was going to admit it. She wasn't the one to back down for anything.

* * *

"That meeting inside Paul's seemed intense…. So, how about some tea?"

Leah gave Aisha a disappointed look before turning on the water over the sink. "Really, Aisha?" she scolded. Thank goodness, no one else was inside the women's restroom. A prime place for rumor-spreading. That and the break room. "Just because I can, you know, doesn't mean I should, you know."

The look Aisha sent her told her she didn't agree. One bit. "Oh, come on. No need to be all moralistic," she said, turning off the water. She reached for the paper towels. "Did you see who was in attendance?"

"I did," Leah said, running her hands under the lukewarm water. "They're doing something about Jane, working on ensuring her statements count in court."

"So, you did hear something."

Leah shot her friend a warning look. "_Aisha_."

"Sorry," Aisha whispered, glancing at the exit. No one was coming. Good. "Well, that's great, right? All of your late-night meetings can finally count towards something."

"One would hope," Leah mumbled, shutting off the water. She quickly dried her hands and checked her reflection through the mirror. She did look tired. _Shit_. "Hey, I'm going to a spa next week. Need to relax like you wouldn't believe. Wanna tag along?"

"No can do," Aisha said, apologetic, then a blinding smile appeared. "Tiffany's back next week."

Leah turned around, leaning against the edge of the sink. She clapped; she was happy for her friend. "That's wonderful!"

Aisha's grin widened. "Yeah, it is, but it's only for a smile." Her smile dropped. "And then back across the ocean." She let out a sigh. "But I guess it's better than nothing."

"How many more years does she have on her contract?"

"About a couple more."

Leah shook her head. "Damn."

"But's not ten," Aisha pointed out, forcing a smile.

"It's not ten," Leah agreed with a nod.

"I'll let you know when we're both free. We should go out sometime, lunch, maybe?" Aisha offered, and then chuckling, "She'll definitely get a kick out of seeing you eat meat again."

Leah smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

The topic of the meeting was brought up over lunch with Jacob. To Leah's surprise, Jacob didn't seem too worried about the brass' increasing involvement in the investigation. "Maybe it's a blessing in disguise?" he said with a half-shrug as he drowned his fries with ketchup.

Leah appreciated the man's cautious optimism, but, "Paul didn't sound too happy about it," she pointed out before taking a large bite from her burger.

"Everyone likes to keep things in-house until they can't," Jacob said. "Things changed after that trafficking case and when the Volturi decided to jump ship. And then, you enter the Fangs' drama that I'm sure Saint Louis is looking into, too. All of this… stuff involves more people, more jurisdictions." He shrugged. "Can't say I'm too surprised, though…"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Though?"

"The feds had seemed so gung-ho about us not using you-know-who on an official basis," Jacob said, wrinkling his nose. "What made them change their minds? And this new initiative… What the hell are we getting ourselves into?"

That was what concerned Leah.


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

* * *

"Twenty-One Questions."

"Oh c'mon, Clearwater. What are we in, high school?"

"You're talking to someone who loves UNO. And yes, Twenty-One Questions. Anything goes."

"Anything goes?" Jacob scoffed before taking a bite from his small hamburger. They had ordered a dinner's worth of food from the Happy Hour menu. Thankfully, Quill had a friends-only discount. "You really wanna go down that road?"

"That's what the WB's for." Leah lifted her beer. "Lowers your inhibition. Anything goes?"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Just start the goddamn game, Black."

Jacob laughed before taking a swig of his beer. "Fine," he declared with a slap on the table, "Let's get started."

"Now, are _you_ sure? I'm sensing some doubt coming from your way," Leah observed with a taunting grin. "Are you sure you want to do this? You can back out if you want. No judgment."

Jacob puffed out his chest. "I ain't a wuss."

Leah's grin widened. "Can't lie."

"Same goes for you."

"Touché." Leah folded her hands and pushed them out, cracking a couple of bones along the way. "Wanna take the first crack at it?"

"Hit me."

"Why did you decide to become a cop?"

Jacob swallowed down some of his beer, eyeing his partner. The question threw Jacob off. Perhaps, he had suspected something salacious, not a standard interview question. "I don't think we've ever talked about this, have we?"

"Shockingly, no." Leah transferred a handful of fries to her plate and drenched them with malt vinegar. She looked up at her partner, lifting an eyebrow. "Well?"

"I wanted to do something with my life. Preferably without family intervention."

"You could've chosen another profession."

"I could've…" Jacob shrugged. "But I wanted a full-time job without going back to school. Thankfully, CPD wasn't so particular about college degrees at the time. I mean, being a cop isn't the most glamorous job, especially after getting shot at numerous times, but it's stable enough. And I get a pension."

Leah nodded. Cops in this city weren't millionaires (unless they got lotto-lucky, were trust fund babies or just downright playing dirty), but it could've been so much worse. Also, with Chicago being Chicago, it didn't look like any widespread layoffs were going to happen anytime soon.

"What did Monica say?" Leah asked, almost regretting it. They could talk about their exes without it being weird, right? They've done it before; Leah didn't even know why she was overthinking this. The question was simple; nothing too invasive, too inappropriate. And they were friends.

"No, it's your turn," Jacob insisted, pointing the tip of his beer at the woman across from him. His easy grin showed that he hadn't been too put off by the mention of his ex-wife. He leaned forward. "So, why did _you_ decide to become a cop?"

Leah narrowed her eyes. "You can't re-ask my question."

Jacob laughed. "_Re-ask_?" he teased, laughing harder as Leah tossed a fry at him. "You said anything goes, Clearwater." He shrugged. "I'm just following _your_ rules."

"Fine," Leah said with a wave of the hand. She downed some of her downed and replied with, "I'm nosy. I like getting to the bottom of things. I used to love those cop shows—the Heat of the Night, Law and Order, Columbo, Matlock, you know, all of that stuff. I thought it was cool…" she stalled, aimlessly running a finger along the side of her beer bottle. She stopped and sighed. "I wanted to be like my dad."

"Tell me about him."

He was wonderful. Fun, when he could be home, which towards the end of this life, he hadn't been able to do. Much. Leah used to think Harry was like a superhero, so powerful, so cool. She remembered all those times when Harry would let her play with his badge and teach her detective tricks. How to probably clean a gun. How to read body language like an open book—He was just cool.

Bittersweet memories.

"What did Monica say?" Leah asked between bites of her fries. "About you being in CPD? It's not the easiest department to work for."

There was a hesitance in Jacob's response. He wolfed down his last slider, ushered a waiter to bring him another plate of wings. Even now, as a wolf, Leah couldn't understand his appetite. This was supposed to be Happy Hour, not _dinner_.

Relaxing against the booth, Jacob finally replied with, "She claimed she was down, but I knew she wasn't." He frowned; there was some regret, Leah observed. "She suggested that I really wanted to be in law enforcement, then I should stick to the suburbs. The suburbs were safe; nothing goes down there, at least, in comparison to this lovely city of ours…" He trailed off with a sigh. "I think she was worried about me, but… I was born and raised here. Why go anywhere else?"

Leah nodded with understanding. "I get it." Despite all of the drama and the bureaucracy, she couldn't imagine being in another city. Since the moment she had been born, Chicago had her heart. For better or for worse. "Was that your question for me?"

Jacob shook his heads and with a smirk, asked, "What did you see in Sam?"

Leah eyed her partner, incredulous, as she finished the last of her beer. "_Really_?"

"What? You said anything goes, right? I'm just curious, that's all," Jacob said with amusement evident in his voice, and then suddenly, in a moment of panic, he leaned over the table and insisted that, "You don't have to—"

Leah put up a hand, and before the apologies commenced, answered the question, "Besides being handsome? He was stable." She paused, reaching for more fries and the last of the sliders. "Not to say that I've had a history being with crazy guys because I don't." She laughed to herself. "Okay, so maybe there was one or two. Here and there, but I'd like to think I don't attract crazy." Her eyes widened. "Wait, do you think _I_ do?"

"Can't accurately say," Jacob replied, amused. "I've only known for you _so_ long."

Leah looked down at her plate. "True."

"I'm sure you're fine."

"Sam had this calming presence about him," Leah continued, wondering for a moment why that aspect of his personality stuck out to her above all. Her life hadn't been _that_ chaotic. At least she didn't think so. "Always made everything better. And he was very driven. He knew what he wanted and went after it…" She stopped, flashing back to that night in December. She snorted. "Ain't that a double-edge sword, huh?"

"I see he's making a concerted effort to get back into your good graces," Jacob said, voice attempting to remain flat and steady. But he was tight as a plucked wire; he wasn't fooling anyone. "That's progress."

Leah cracked open her second beer. "You're not his biggest fan, are you?" She already knew the answer, but Jacob's snort was further verification. "Were you ever? And yes, this question counts."

Jacob sat up in his side of the booth, rolling his shoulders. "I never had a problem with him, if that's what you're wondering. I've always heard good things about the man, even if Rollins, and he hates everyone." The detectives shared a laugh. Jacob then continued, "As a public servant, I think he's great. As a person, he's a lying bastard. Three years?" He huffed. "_Goddamn_."

Leah picked up a fry, stared at it for second before tossing it into her mouth. "I'm over it."

"You are?"

Leah nodded. "Yeah, it seems like I'm hanging on our whatever." She glanced at the bar, itching to get another WB beer even though she wasn't finished with her current one. She ended up staying put. "I don't like being lied to.'

Jacob stiffened. "Leah—"

Leah sighed. "I'm not talking about _that_," she fiercely insisted. "At least, your apology was sincere." She reached for another fry. Something about fried foods made conversations like this more bearable. "Sometimes, I think he just apologized to get me outta his face. If you haven't noticed, I can be a bit overbearing…" She shrugged. "But it's done. He has his own life, a kid, and a girlfriend… I can't believe they're still together."

She ultimately wasn't able to co convince her partner that there was no reason to still feel guilty, but Jacob didn't press the idea. Instead, he nodded, and with a light tap on the table, "Your turn."

Leah shook her head. "That was a follow-up. Doesn't count."

"Yes, it does," Jacob insisted, moving a hand in circles. "Go ahead."

Leah decided to forgo fighting Jacob about the merits of Twenty-One Questions. Instead, she asked, "Are you concerned about the Fangs? I know you've been trying to avoid any interactions with them. But now, I don't think you'll have a choice."

Especially since it was confirmed that the bodies found in West Lawn were linked to the Fangs. Everyone, including the Feds, was holding their breath, waiting for the gang's next move.

Jacob bit his lip and then sighed. "I'm not gonna lie; I'm surprised I've lasted this far without drama. I've been asked numerous times to play on both sides. But I declined every single time, and Collin was never too happy about the rejection—People've been killed for less."

"Never crossed your mind?"

"I mean, of course, it has," Jacob said. "You should've seen what they were offering me, but I couldn't do it. Collin, his dad, and I'm sure my dad, could've seen it as a betrayal because, you know, we're blood…" He swallowed. "I told them to stay out of Chicago. Then, I won't be able to touch them. They wouldn't have to worry about a damn thing. CPD wouldn't be involved, and therefore, I wouldn't be involved…"

"The feds can."

"Yeah, but we're not the feds," Jacob said. "They should've stayed out of Chicago," He shook his head. "And now, several of their buddies are dead."

"So, you're concerned."

Leah wouldn't judge him if he were. Fuck, she would be, too.

Before Jacob could respond, the waiter returned with a plate full of hot wings. Jacob thanked the man, deeply inhaled scent of nothing but hot sauce before taking a stab at the food. He offered Leah some, of course, but she politely declined. With a shrug, he devoured a couple of wings.

"Not about me, per se," Jacob eventually said. "I can handle them. Been dealing with them all my life…" He locked eyes with Leah and swallowed. "But then, there's you."

Leah glanced down at her plate, suddenly interested in playing with its contents. She could feel Jacob's eyes still on her. Her partner was an expressive man, and his gaze was no different. He didn't have to say anything else; she knew exactly what he was implying. A blessing and a damn curse- She reached out for her beer, trying to find the right words as she took a long sip. She sat the bottle down and looked up. "They know about...?

Jacob adverted his gaze and nodded. "Yeah." He didn't sound too happy about it, Leah observed, but she doubted it had anything to do with her being his mate, no, bond-person or whatnot. Maybe having her around added to his stress—Leah shook her head. No, they had both been through far worse. They could handle this shit.

"I appreciate your optimism," Jacob said, face slowly lighting up. "Knew there was a good reason to keep you around."

"And here, I thought it was because of my personality," Leah said, her grin matching her partner's. She reached for a few wings and between bites decided to carry on with the game. "Can I do a follow-up?" she suggested. "Then, you can ask two in a row."

Jacob nodded. "Knock yourself out."

"Did Monica know about the Fangs?"

"Going back to the past, are we?" Jacob said, trying to play it off as a joke. He fell flat. "I've known her since high school. I couldn't exactly hide that…" he trailed off with a sigh. "I know, it's all BS. I could tell her about the Fangs, but not mention a damn thing about the wolf until the most inopportune time."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say anything."

Jacob gave her a look. "Your eyes said it all."

"I didn't mean-"

Jacob put up a hand and shook his head. He clapped a couple of times before asking, "What's the stupidest thing you've ever done?"

"Besides an Elvis impersonator fake-marrying us?" Leah replied with a laugh. It was stupid, but damn it, if it hadn't been fun, they had been giggling so much during the so-called wedding that the Elvis had to scold them in his best King of Rock voice. "Or when I decided to run after a vampire without any backup?"

"Stupid prior to 2018," Jacob clarified.

"Stupid…" Leah rubbed her hands together as if doing so would unclog her memory. She'd like to think was a pragmatic person, not the kind to jump into the fire and never one for surprises. "I don't know…"

She snapped her fingers. "Oh, yes. There was this one time when Emily and I had to babysit Seth. I was, I think, freshmen in high school? We were bored, and my neighbors were always in the middle of some dramas, so why watch cartoons when we could be nosy?" Leah shrugged. "I'm telling you, they had everything. Cleating spouses, baby-mama drama, in-law drama, lawyers, very passionate discussions that turned into shouting matches… there was even this one time when the wife set the husband's clothes on fire."

Jacob raised both eyebrows. "Did they get a divorce?"

"Somehow, no," Leah said. "Anyway, so that night, despite not being allowed to eavesdrop on the neighbor's drama, Emily and I did what was expected—"

"You eavesdropped."

"We filmed the _entire_ incident." Leah sighed at the memory. It had been so wrong of her and Emily, invading someone's privacy like that. "So, the wife was messing around with her divorce lawyer who was also her cousin-in-law." She shook her head. "It was all screwed up."

"You filmed them getting it on?"

"Yes," Leah said, earning a full-fledge laugh from the man across from her. She was glad that at least someone was finding this amusing. She still remembered how the lovers looked, what they _had done_. Not to kink-shame, but _damn_—Leah shuddered before continuing, "We had this video and thought: they, we can use this to our advantage and came up with the _wonderful_ idea in the wife that we had it."

Jacob snorted. "You tried to extort her?"

"You said stupid, right?" Leah took a swig of her beer. "Extort is a _strong_ word," and when Jacob gave her a look, "Okay, fine, so maybe it was. We had this entire plan laid out, even looked into laws just in case we busted. But then, as we reviewed the footage, we notified that those damn branches were blocking the view. So, being an avid tree climber, I decided to climb up the tree separating our homes, and…"

"You fell."

"_Right on my ass_," Leah said. "And of course, I ended up screaming so loudly that the wife, who was inside a room with an open window, rushed out of the house to make sure I didn't die or something. She was really sweet about it, even called the ambulance and my mom because, of course, I broke my arm."

Jacob was thoroughly amused. "And I'm guessing she also found out about the camera?"

Leah dropped her head in shame. Yeah, she did… So, to ensure that the wife didn't call our mothers and the cops, we had to agree to clean her house and yard for a month. As far as our moms knew, we only did the cleaning to make some non-existent money." She shook her head. "Never doing _that_ again."

Jacob laughed. "Did the neighbors end up getting a divorce?"

"Nope, still going strong." Leah chuckled at the thought. "They're now open-marriage advocates, and I'm pretty sure the lawyer-boyfriend's somehow involved. As I said, it's all screwed up. But I guess I can't knock them; they seem to be satisfied with the arrangement."

"Is the wife still mad at you?"

"We've made up." Which reminded Leah that she and her family were having dinner at the neighbor's tomorrow night; she made a mental note to bring a bottle of wine. "She fully understands that I was young and dumb. I was like, fourteen? Fourteen-year-olds are dumbasses."

Jacob grinned. "Based on past experiences, I'd have to agree with you on that one." He motioned a waiter to bring him another beer. "Did Sue ever find out?"

Leah finished her beer and slammed the bottle on the table. "Nope, and she never will."

* * *

"Good morning, Doctor, what do you have for us?" Leah asked, handing Bella a complimentary cup of coffee as Jacob did the same for Eric. The drinks were a small token of their appreciation. Both medical examiners had taken upon themselves to unofficially prioritize the Green Lawn murders.

Bella made an approval noise as she took a long sip of her coffee. "Thank you for this," she said, lifting her cup before setting it aside. She then washed her hands and slapped on a pair of gloves before approaching the examination table, currently holding the bones. She pulled back the white sheet, took one look, and recovered the bones. "Believe it or not, our friends at the lab got lucky."

"Very lucky," Eric added with a triumphant grin. He opened a metal drawer where evidence was stored. "The perps did a good job cleaning up the scene, but they didn't get to everything. They never do." He pulled out an evidence bag containing strands of hair and held it up for everyone to see. "Found lodged in a skull opening. Forensics did their thing and found a match: Robert James, age 43 from Saint Louis."

Bella handed Leah a report containing a more detailed profile of the victim.

"Thanks. We'll run his name," Leah told the doctors as she skimmed the report. She gave Jacob the page as he pulled out his phone and quickly called Martinez, requesting a name check.

"That's not all," Bella said, crossing her arms. "We've officially determined that none of the victims were killed at the crime scene. Their bones were deposited inside the ditch post-mortem. Good news, though: one of the CSI folks notified us of a bunch of wood shards located inside the ditch. Definitely not native to the area." She directed Eric to show the detectives the evidence. "My guess: the shards were transported with the bones. Probably inside a plastic bag."

"African Blackwood," Eric continued. "AKA Mozambique Ebony, AKA the most expensive wood in the world. Native to East Africa. Primarily used in the making of woodwind instruments."

"We reached out to a dendrologist," Bella said. "He said the wood is dated, roughly over a hundred to one hundred fifty years old."

"Shavings?" Leah rubbed her chin. She had to admit; the finding was a bit odd. "We could be looking for an old instrument factory," she then suggested, earning an affirmative from Jacob, who was still on the phone. "The city used to be known for manufacturing musical instruments. I believe there's one near the Stock Yards; it hasn't operated in decades."

* * *

"Any news on this James?

"I've heard of him," Jacob told Leah, playing with his phone as they descended the stairs of the Office of the Medical Examiner. He quickly dialed a number and continued, "I think he was Eric's bodyguard. He's been arrested a few times for petty crimes and assault. Served six months in Cook County for his last charge. Got off probation a couple of years back and then moved to Saint Louis."

"So, this is more or less a confirmation that the bones belonged to the missing Fangs associates."

Jacob nodded, then spoke into the phone, "Hey Martinez, you got anything on this guy: Robert James? ... Yeah, Bella and her people got a match for him... Yeah, I know he rolled with Eric... Oh, so, he did own some property in Chicago. A couple of places." He shared a grin with Leah. "Yeah, if you don't mind. We're gonna check out this factory near the Stocks... Keep us posted, will ya?"

"River North," Leah remarked after Jacob hung up. She fished the keys out of her pocket to unlock the car. "That's not a cheap area. I know I definitely can't afford a nice place there. James must've been bringing in some serious cash. At least, compared to the rest of the Fangs." She entered the car, soon followed by Jacob. For once, she would be the one driving. "Martinez is heading there by himself?"

"He's taking Jared along," Jacob said before tapping his nose. He sent Leah a smirk. "For the nose."

Leah scoffed. "Ah, yes. The omnipotent nose," she said, turning on the engine. "One of our many powers..." She trailed off as she checked all of her mirrors and adjusted the gear into drive. "So, off to Creepy Factory Number One?" she asked before speeding off.

"Off to the Creepy Factory Number One."

* * *

"Something definitively went down in here."

"You sound very sure of yourself," Leah said, pulling out her phone to turn on the flashlight. The sun rays seeping through the building opening only did so much to light up the interior.

There was nothing special about the abandoned factory. It was a four-story building, foundation made of brick and concrete. Inside were cracked windows, dilapidated doors hanging from hinges, rusted-over machines, and plaster walls covered with faded paint. The concrete under her feet was cracked with grass and weeds visible between the gaps. It was quiet, saved from the faint scratching within the walls, probably made by the mice.

At first glance, nothing gave Leah an indication that she was standing in the middle of a crime scene.

"The nose doesn't lie," Jacob said, tapping the bridge of his nose. "Here." He took a step closer to Leah. "Close your years and _breath_ in." Seconds passed. "What do you have?"

Leah deeply inhaled. She didn't catch anything out of the ordinary. Only rotting wood, rusting metal, traces of animals and their feces. Some old, some newly deposited. There were puddles of standing water beyond the wall in front of her. She drew her eyebrows together. "I don't—"

"_Concentrate_."

"We're inside an abandoned factory," Leah reminded her partner. She closed her eyes, focusing on her hearing and sense of scent in hopes of finding whatever Jacob was talking about. Releasing a huff, she opened her eyes to give Jacob a sharp look. "I doubt anyone's been here for a while…"

Jacob huffed, clearly not satisfied with Leah's answer. "What else?" he asked.

Leah rolled her eyes. And then, she noticed _it_. The scent of something, she didn't know, organic? Like belonging to an animal. No, people. She was definitely picking up scents from beings who walked on twos. She wasn't exactly sure how she was capable of telling the difference, but she was positive about her observation. "I can pick up…" she stalled, taking another whiff. It was hard to differentiate from the stench of recently-deceased rodents. "I don't know, seven?"

"Fourteen."

Leah snapped open her eyes and faced Jacob. "How did you—"

"How many vampires and how many wolves?"

Leah's gaze hardened. "This isn't a game, Black."

"Who said it was?" Jacob took a step closer to his partner and asked, in a low voice, "How many?"

Leah cleared her throat. How could one exactly tell the difference between a shapeshifter's and a vampire's scent? Especially if she didn't know the people? Never seen the people. Never heard of them. Never smelled them.

But she ended up following Jacob's command. She deeply inhaled, making a concerted effort to differentiate between the seven (no, _fourteen_) scents. Seconds passed and nothing, but then, she caught it. Thirteen with the last one, a fainter one, closer to the exit. Her nostrils flared, and then, with her eyes opened wide, she got it: seven shapeshifters, wolves. The rest were vampires—Leah had no idea how she was able to make such a conclusion. But she did and was very confident that she was right.

Jacob's face broke into a proud grin.

Leah blinked, amazed. "But… how?"

"You see another world once you trust your senses," Jacob explained, giving Leah a pointed look. He took a couple of steps forward, then frowned. "I don't recognize any of the vampires, though."

That would make sense. If Volturi were indeed the culprits, they wouldn't have used her usual crew. Logistically, it wouldn't have made sense, being all the way in Moldova. They would have had to rely on associates left behind in the States. Those who had been working for them under the radar for some time. Competent enough to carry out the Volturi's mission without attracting attention from the authorities.

But not competent enough to mask their scents, it seemed.

Leah tested the air again. "Gunpowder," she said. There was no doubt about it. "Faint, but it's here."

"Told you something happened around here."

"There's not much—."

"Where's your faith, Clearwater?"

"Screw faith. We need evidence."

Jacob didn't give a response. Instead, he paced around the open space, muttering under his breath. he would eventually let out a frustrated sigh and announced, "I can't do this like this."

"Like what? What are you talking —" Leah stopped. Blinking a couple of times, she wondered if she was hallucinating. Why Jacob thought was the optimum time to start unbuttoning his shirt was beyond her. Afraid of the answer but also curious, Leah carefully asked. "What are you…doing?"

"I'm better at this when I'm walking on all fours," Jacob said like there was nothing wrong with undressing in front of his partner during a sweep of a proposed murder scene. When he notified Leah's confused and horrified expression, he further explained, "Oh, c'mon, no one's coming around here. Just follow my lead."

"You're about phase."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "_Yes_."

"You've gotta be—" Leah pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is crazy."

Technically it wasn't. Being a wolf, from what she was told, was far simpler than being a person. Instincts reigned supreme with overthinking and overanalyzing pushed to the back burner—the issue was the damn _location_.

"Why?" Jacob wondered with a lopsided grin. "It's not like this is the first time." He pounded his chest. "I _got_ this."

Leah appreciated the confidence, but generally, when the man said "he got this", all she had to do was wait a short while before the shit hit the fan. She gave Jacob a skeptical look, hoping the man would change his mind, "What if—"

"_Leah_." Jacob faced his partner and grabbed onto both shoulders, squeezing them a couple of times. "Got an extra set of clothes in the car," he said, dropping his arms. He then removed his badge and gun. "But not these—" He handed the items to Leah. "Paul would maim me if I lose my gun and badge."

Yes, he would, Leah thought as she turned her attention on anything but Jacob as he stripped down. She closed her eyes; when she opened them some seconds later, Jacob, the wolf, stood before her, nose straight up, deeply breathing in the air.

Leah held her breath as she watched the wolf become acclimated with his surroundings. It scared her to see Jacob like this. Not because of the wolf, himself; his behavior was far from erratic, simply curious. But the thought of someone catching the man, _the wolf_, or Jacob accidentally attracting something. _Just the thought_.

Leah shook the perturbing thoughts out of her mind, setting Jacob's discarded clothes aside. She eventually relaxed—Honestly, Leah should just let Jacob do this thing. After all, he was a grown man. He knew what was he was doing, and no one would see him. Thankfully, in this case, the factory was hidden behind a row of tall trees. No sign of intelligence life (or cameras) was within a half a mile radius. And form the sounds of it, no one was approaching this area. It was a perfect location to roam around as a wolf.

A perfect location to execute someone.

"Where are you leading me to?" Leah asked Jacob, following the wolf in the near-darkness. Wanting to put her night-vision ability into some use, she put off returning to her phone as a light source; it was taking her eyes some time to adjust, but it worked.

Jacob stopped in his tracks. He barked a couple of times and then darted towards the wall straight ahead. Inches from the structure, he lowered his nose and sniffed along the seam between the wall and the floor.

_He must've found something_, Leah deduced, narrowing her eyes to get a better view. She quickly gave up and pulled out her flashlight. The sound of Jacob's barks stole her attention. She looked up from her phone, watching Jacob at the corner of the room as he pawed at the wooden flooring. When Leah reached the wolf's side, she bent down—_Look at that_, she thought with a smile. A bullet-casing gleaming with traces of ultraviolet, lodged in between two floor planks.

She turned to Jacob and patted his cheek. "_Good boy_," she praised, then chuckled at the wolf's bashful expression. It was adorable, even for a wolf currently twice her size.

Leah pulled out an evidence bag from her back pocket, dropped in the crush bullet casing, and stood up—the bullet was promising; it opened opportunities, established new theories, including the proximity to the scene of the executions.

She scanned the area, eventfully setting her sights on the wall in front of her. She took a couple of steps forward, feeling Jacob's eyes on her as she scrutinized the plastered structure. There were only so much her eyes could tell her, so Leah carefully smoothed her palms along the wall, feeling for any valleys and peaks.

Leah stopped midway. Swallowing with anticipation, she observed the indentations with her fingertips. The marks weren't pronounced but were consistent with being formed by bullets. "Shit," she said, glancing at her partner. "Bullets."

Jacob growled.

Nodding, Leah took a step back and gleamed the wall with her phone-flashlight. Her eyes widened in awe—There it was. A line of bullet indentations. "They were all shot here," she hypothesized. "Lined up, forced on their knees. All faced the wall and were shot in succession. One shot to the back of the head; that's all it took." She cleared her throat. "This wasn't a surprise attack."

Jacob barked in agreement.

Leah took a couple more steps back. "The perps stood here," she said, pointing a finger-gun at the wall in front of her. "Bang." She moved to the right, lining up with another mark on the wall. "Bang." She continued until she reached the last bullet hole. "Bang." She looked at Jacob. "Firing squad…" she concluded. She studied the wall in front of her, squinting her eyes. "But there's only seven. There were eight bodies-worth of bones found at Green Lawn."

Of course, this was all a theory.

But Leah was starting to believe it.

Growing deep inside his throat, Jacob stood up tall on all fours, shoulders squared. His eyes darted to the left, and with his lips drawn back in a snarl, the wolf scrambled to the area of interest. Leah followed close behind, deeply breathing along the way. She could pick up the faint, yet distinct smell of blood. Not a large dose, definitely not fresh.

Leah looked down at Jacob; his snout was glued to a particular area about a few feet away from the wall adjacent to the "wall of execution" (as she called it). She tapped Jacob's head a couple of times, prompting him to stop. There was no need for him to investigate further. Leah already knew that type of blood it was or wasn't. "Must've belonged to a vampire," she said. "Victim Number Eight."

_Garett_.

Leah turned to the wall of execution and nodded as she pictured what could have happened— The perps separated the group; the wolves lined up in one area and the vampire in another. They were probably interrogating Garrett, wondering how the hell was he working with "dogs". Chances were, they were going to kill the vampire whether Garrett knew it or not.

The wolves were killed first, and then Garrett. He had been shot further away with a different gun. A UV right through the temple, Leah guessed. It would be quick. Got the job done.

_Goodness. _

Leah quickly dialed the station's main number. When the dispatcher picked up, the detectives immediately suggested, "You may want to send some folks out here. We found something."


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

* * *

"My God, if this isn't peak lameness, then I don't know what is."

"Lameness?" Leah snorted before shoving a handful of chips into her mouth. She didn't know why Aisha was complaining so much; this whole get-together at her place was _her_ idea. "This isn't lame," she argued. "This is called relaxing, which I don't know about you guys, I need."

"We all _need_ this," Bella said, nodding from the other side of the couch.

"I _know_ that," Aisha said. "But shouldn't we be out and about, having the time of our lives? Isn't that what people our age do? But instead, it's Friday night, and we're sitting on a couch, inhaling fat, sugars, carbs, and wine while watching goddamn Titanic."

Leah and Bella shared a look and shrugged.

"I'm good," Leah said, reaching out for her glass of wolf-bane free red wine, then added, "I'm too old to stay out all night unless it's pack-related, and even then, I complain."

"You and me both," Bella agreed. "And Aisha, don't disparage Titanic. I, for one, find the movie entertaining—You could've just said no when I suggested the movie."

Leah sent Aisha a pointed look.

Aisha snorted as she reached for her second cupcake for the night. Not that anyone was counting. All diets and calorie-counting were taking a break tonight. "I never said I didn't _like_ the movie. I simply don't understand the hoopla around it. That's all."

"The last half is the best part," Leah said. "Which, if my memory serves right, shouldn't be too long from now. And the wine's pretty good."

Bella sported a wide grin. "Thank you," she said, folding her hands over her heart. She had brought the wine.

Aisha scoffed. "Like you can get buzzed from that, Leah. It's like only juice to you."

"I can't lie, your near-immunity to standard alcohol is pretty cool," Bella said, eyes glued to the television. The movie was approaching the infamous "paint me like one of your French girls" scene. "Traditionally, canines and alcohol don't mix at all, but evidently, that doesn't apply to canine shapeshifters. Wonder why that is?"

Leah wasn't complaining. "No clue," she said. "The only thing that can get me buzzed is wolfbane."

"It's not supposed to be used for consumption," Aisha reminded Leah.

"Neither is alcohol."

Aisha and Bella shared a look and shrugged.

"Everything is fine if it's consumed in moderation," Bella declared, and then, returning to Aisha's earlier point. "I think this isn't the most exciting night, but don't you think we've already had enough of that? This, right here, is what we need. Simple. No drama. No dead bodies. No bureaucracy. _No_ _men_. Just a group of watching a movie over wine and sweethearts. When was the last time we were able to do this?"

"It's been a while…" Aisha said, and then, pointing at the screen. "Pay attention, ladies. That part is coming up!"

"I have to admit," Bella said as all three women watched Rose disrobe. "Not to be the one to…" She stalled, trying to make her point wave with the circular motion of her hand. "But _damn_, her boobs are amazing."

Aisha smirked.

"She does have a nice body," Leah agreed with a nod. "On another note, it would be nice to be able to draw free-hand like that? I mean, that's a talent I definitely don't have."

"Neither do I," Bella mumbled, dropping her chin to her chest.

"There was one time in my past like when I considered attending art school," Aisha mused. "But then, life happened."

Bella pointed at Jack's finished drawing. "So, you can do _that_?"

"What, the original sext?" Aisha laughed, shaking her head. "Not like him. I'm more of a ceramics person."

"The original sext," Leah chuckled. "I like that."

"I don't think I'll be able to be a good model," Bella said, following a moment of comfortable silence. "I think I'll get too cold."

"I can't stand still for shit," Aisha added.

"Neither can I," Leah said, remembering how she would always lose at freeze-tag when she was younger. "And honestly, I never had the desire to pose for a nude portrait. I know what I look like. I don't need an artistic depiction of my body hanging on the wall."

"But wouldn't it be fun?" Aisha asked, wiggling her eyebrows. "Just think of the thrill."

"I have enough thrill in my life. Thank you very much."

"I know that feeling." Bella nodded. "But maybe I'll try it if I was in a warm enough-room. I don't like the cold."

"But, you live in Chicago…"

"I was born and raised in Arizona," Bella reminded Aisha. "Hell will have to freeze before that place experiences Chicago-cold."

"Yeah, I'd be a bit concerned." Leah grabbed another handful of chips, but instead of wolfing everything down, she slowly ate her snack out of her hand. She shook her head at a scene depicting on the television screen. "Why would anyone think it's a good idea to run through a damn boiler room is beyond me."

"Because they're young and in love," Bella cooed. She was one of those hopeless romantics. "Good for her," she said. "This is probably the most liberating night in her stuffy life—And look! Now, they're in the Model-T. Remember this?

Aisha and Leah shared an amused look. Ah yes, the car scene. Who couldn't?

"I honestly don't see the appeal of car sex," Aisha said, wrinkling her nose. "It's way too cramped up in there. Easy way to pull something."

"I pulled my back during an attempt to join the High Mile Club," Leah remarked, scoffing at the memory. She had been young, dumb, and far more adventurous. "It sounded like a good idea at the time."

She was never doing that shit again. Standard airplane bathrooms were _not_ designed for two grown people, no matter what _Cosmopolitan_ claimed.

Bella's grin morphed into a smirk.

Aisha leaned in. "Was it worth it?"

Leah gave a dejected sigh. "No," but then quickly added. "Not from the lack of effort, though. It was a red-eye flight. Everyone was sleeping. The flight attendants weren't paying much attention. Sucked the thrill out of it, especially after I injured myself."

Bella gave Leah a look of sympathy.

"I can understand pulling a leg muscle, but how did you pull you _back_?"

Leah cocked an eyebrow. "Do you honestly want the details?"

Aisha put up both hands. "Nope."

"Isn't this _so_ romantic?" Bella mused, tuning out her friends' conversation for the movie. She pushed up her cheeks and had a face-splitting smile across her face. Her eyes—they were honestly the closest thing to heart-eyes Leah had ever seen. "They're in _love_."

Leah raised her eyebrow at the screen. Ah yes, the infamous hand-sliding-down-the-window scene. She didn't want to burst her friend's bubble, but, "She only knew the guy for like what? Two days?"

Aisha poured herself another glass of wine. "I think it's approaching three…"

Bella blinked a couple of times. "So?"

"What they're engaging in is called a hook-up."

"She's supposed to be _in love_ with the man, Leah."

"Not in love enough to share that door!" Aisha added.

Leah and Bella both slapped their foreheads and groaned.

"Bella, you're in a scientist, right? Can you please explain to Aisha about the practicality of two people floating around on the same damn door?"

"I specialize in human anatomy, not physics," Bella reminded everyone. "But yes, I highly doubt it wouldn't have worked."

"_Thank you_."

"But how you know?" Aisha argued. "Were _you_ both there? She said that she'd never let him go, but obviously, that was a lie!"

Leah threw up her hands. "For heaven's sake, Aisha, the man was already dead. Literally frozen solid."

"I still maintain that she messed up." Aisha held her head up high. "And now, his body's on the ocean floor."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Bella said. "It's been over a century. Anything and everything organic has already been dissolved or eaten by ocean animals. The only thing left behind is maybe his shoes. If they were made of leather, that is."

Aisha rolled her eyes. "Thank you, _Doctor_."

"My pleasure," Bella said with a wide grin, not catching the woman's sarcasm. Soon, her expression turned sorrowful as Bella pushed a couch pillow up against her chest. "It's so sad," she whined. "She's literally on a sinking ship where most of its passengers are going to die, and she _still_ has a better love life than I do."

Leah let out a sigh as she tapped her friend's shoulder a couple of times. She already knew where this conversation was heading.

"Maybe you should go on a love-boat?" Aisha suggested. "Fall in love with someone in three days, too. Hey, it can happen."

Leah swallowed her snort.

Bella wasn't entirely convinced. "But what if it sinks?"

"Survive to tell a damn good story. Even make a movie out of it. Make a helluva lot more money than you are now…"

Leah verbally agreed.

Bella thought about it for a moment, hopeful, but then her expression turned into one of disappointment. "When, a hundred years later?"

Aisha took back her head and gave Bella an incredulous look.

"Actually, this movie was released eighty-five years after the fact," Leah remarked, aimlessly tossing bits of candy in her mouth as she watched the movie. Then, when she felt two sets of eyes on her, she blinked. "What? 1997 minus 1912 _is_ eighty-five."

Bella's grimace deepened. "One hundred or eighty-five, the fact remains that unless I turn into a vampire, I'll be dead by the time this so-called movie comes out."

"You can always ask for someone to give you the bite?" Leah suggested, then with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Maybe even Rosalie can lend a hand? I'll give her a call if you want?"

Aisha burst into laughed as Bella stuck out her tongue. "The whole no-beating-heart thing doesn't appeal to me," the coroner said, reaching for a bowl of jelly beans, "And only consuming blood for food?" Her smile dropped. "I mean, what can I do with that?"

"It'll get easier once the craving hits," Leah told Bella, drawing from her own experience. "Hey, look at me? I was a pescatarian for the longest, and now, the thought of never consuming a land animal ever again _scares_ me."

"She has a point," Aisha told Bella. "You'll be fine. There's nothing wrong with being single."

Leah raised her glass in agreement.

* * *

"I'm glad you've finally understood why Titanic was a great movie. Especially once the iceberg comes into the picture."

Leah shook her head fondly as she searched through her phone history, trying to find a particular number for a particular burner phone. She wished she had just written it on a Post-It, despite the security violation. "I never said I didn't like the damn movie."

"No, but I will never forget your little taunts."

Leah rolled her eyes. "I wasn't _taunting_ you, Black, I was simply curious about your weird affinity for a romance movie," she explained. "You're usually not into chick-flicks."

Jacob tossed his hands up dramatically, almost causing his previous bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich to flip onto the office floor. "For the last time, it wasn't just a _romance movie_."

"You and Bella should launch a Titanic podcast," Leah suggested. Her face broke into a smile when a familiar number came into view. "I'm sure between the two of you, they'll be _plenty_ of material."

"Yeah, I'm not trying to open that can of worms, thank you. I'm keeping a safe, professional distance," Jacob said, serious. "Do you want to make my life so difficult?"

Leah rolled her eyes again. That man could be so dramatic. "I hope you know she's over the rejection, right?" she asked, eyeing the man carefully because she had a feeling that he still didn't. She sighed, shaking her head. That man. "I don't see why you two can't be friends."

"You heard what I said."

Leah waved him off as she picked up her desk phone and quickly dialed the number. "Hey!" she greeted into the phone with a smile. She was relieved to hear the ATF agent's voice on the other line after a couple of weeks of radio silence. From the sound of it, he appeared good and well. He also sounded like he was inside a building, perhaps inside a basement. She could hear the man pulled out a chair and sit down. "Nice see you're still relatively alive after all this time."

"Tell him I said hi," Jacob said between bites of his sandwich.

"Jacob says hi…" Leah leaned back in her chair. "Hey, nine bodies found in a ditch near Midway. Know anything about this?"

Benjamin returned Jacob's greeting and said to Leah, "And do you think I've emerged from under the rock?" the agent chuckled, and then in a more serious voice. "So, at first, the murders weren't our priority because of our focus on the Velasquez Cartel and Volturi… but then, something interesting came up. I heard from a friend who heard from a friend that several members of the Fangs and a vamp from the Denali clan went missing."

Jacob looked up expectantly.

"We know," Leah said into the phone, leaning back in her chair. "Why do your people about it now? It's the Bureau's case. Technically. Primarily."

"Yeah, until we found out that the money wasn't the only thing that was missing from that plane. Several barrels of Grade A UV's. I'm talking hundreds of thousands of bullets."

Jacob's eyes widened.

"Oh." Leah sat up in her seat and grabbed a notepad and a pen. She quickly wrote down some notes. "_Oh_."

"If you ask me, I think our friends in Moldova had something to do with this. They've been transporting goods across the Atlantic for quite some time now. It seems like they're stocking up for a comeback."

"Why didn't they wire the money?" Leah wondered. It was 2019; digital was the way to go. Even the department was finally realizing that. "Why cash?"

"Unmarked bills go a long way. I'm guessing your band of misfits is investigating this case?"

"We're homicide detectives by trade, so yeah," Leah said, looking around the squad area for Aisha. She should know about this. "Tanya's not happy about Garrett."

"So, it _is_ him," Benjamin realized. "That explains so much…" he trailed off into a groan. "Fuck, that's inconvenient. We were planning to make our move this week on arms smuggling charges—_Shit_, I gotta go. Talk later?"

"Stay safe," Leah told the agent before hanging up.

* * *

"Just received an update from my mom: Abel's out of the hospital," Leah informed Jacob in a whisper as she watched him grab the coveted "investigation board", currently dedicated to the Green Lawn Ditch murders, including the headshots of each confirmed victim. Which at this time, only two were verified with a potential another. Both detectives were heading to Paul's offices for a mid-morning meeting. "He's going to be on meds for quite some time, but he'll live.:

"Thank God for that," Jacob whispered back, stopping to squeeze Leah's shoulder. He gave him a brief smile before greeting a cop passing by them. "Babies should never be allowed to get sick," he added.

"Ain't the truth," Leah mumbled while quickly sending her mother a response via text. She pocketed the phone before holding Paul's door open for Jacob to roll in. Once inside, she greeted everyone and took a seat.

As soon as everyone was in their respected seats, Paul proceeded to pace back and forth in front of the board with his hands clasped behind his back, face contorted in deep thought. "Give me a rundown from this past week."

"Medical examiners can through last week," Jacob said. "According to them, the victims were all men except for one. All ranging between six and seven feet tall with the female being around 5'10". Ages are about rough to figure out, but none were children or elderly. Also, Forensics provided some very valuable information that resulted in the discovery of the most-likely location of the murders."

"We believe the victims were shot execution-style while in a line-up, all facing the wall," Leah followed. "Except for one. The vampire, Garrett. He was shot through the temple, standing about ten to fifteen feet away."

"Why the separation?"

"Some believe that vampires and wolves should never intermingle in life," Jacob said. "I'm guessing the perps believed it should be that way also in death."

"They probably viewed Garrett as a traitor for working with the Fangs," Leah added. "We have reasons to believe he was killed last on purpose."

"This shit's crazy," Martinez mumbled under his breath, but somehow, loud enough for the others to hear, including the captain.

"What did ballistics say?"

"They'll give us an answer on the bullet casing found inside the factory," Aisha told Paul. "Give them some time. they've been having issues with their systems."

Paul shook his head. "Of course," he said, not sounding a bit surprised. Technology could be a beautiful but infuriating thing. "So, let's assume Collin's boys were offed because of their plane heist. How did they, meaning the Volturi, find out it was them? _If_ it was them? And where is the money?"

Everyone exchanged looks in search of a brave soul to be the sacrificial lamb to the captain's questioning. Jacob ended up volunteering. "We don't know," he carefully said, eyeing the captain with slight apprehension as if he was expecting Paul to explode on him due to a lack of an answer.

Paul wasn't pleased, but he wasn't entirely pissed off, thank goodness. "You don't know," he said with a sigh. He didn't sound too surprised. He turned to Martinez. "No one released the list of all of the missing Fangs?"

Martinez shook his head. "Still haven't heard a word. They're being uncharacteristically mum about the entire affair, probably with hopes that no one opens their mouths about their secrets and possible revenge plans."

Leah nodded. Sounded about right.

"Jacob?"

Jacob crossed his arms and deeply frowned. "He's right," he told the captain.

"What about the Volturi? Anything from them?"

"Anytime now, I should be receiving a list of every known Volturi associate in this country and not dead-dead," Aisha said. "Unfortunately, since this the Volturi, it's not going to be a list of five people."

"Well, we gotta start somewhere, don't we?" Paul said. "Focus on enforcers and killers. I doubt the Volturi would use some Joe off the street for an execution," and then added in an extremely frustrated voice, "We don't have a visual on _anyone_?"

"We're going to the closest gas station," Leah quickly said, earning a nod from her partner. "It's about a half a mile away, but it's right next to the main road leading to the factory. The camera had to have caught something."

Paul nodded. "What about the Denali's?"

"We may need another wire," Aisha suggested. "The Denali's aren't saying shit about Garrett, except that Tanya's a bit pissed off."

"You don't need to be a genius to figure that out," Paul grumbled, crossing his arms. "I had a chat with the feds. We seem to have more insight into this heist than they do, believe it or not." He looked at Leah. "They want to know the source behind our discovery."

"I can't do that," Leah said. Gennaro had enough drama to deal with. And a café he didn't want to be burned down. "You know that."

Paul did, which was probably why he didn't fight Leah on her refusal. "This isn't my call," he insisted. "If you don't want the feds to go after your guy, then give us something concrete to work with besides all that he-said-she-said. In case you haven't noticed, we're an evidence-based business."

"The feds must know about him, right?" Aisha wondered. "It's not like the man's been hiding in plain sight. He's been in the system before."

"She has a point," Jacob added.

Paul sighed, and then asked, "What did Mr. Nine Lives say?"

Leah hid a smile behind her hand. She had to tell Benjamin of Paul's new nickname for him. It was, indeed, fitting.

"Is that your new nickname for him?" Jacob asked with a laugh. Once finished, he carried on, "He, more or less, confirmed Leah's source's intel, plus more. He found out about the missing UV's and now, the ATF is very interested in the heist. Mr. Nine Lives, as you call him, is going make some so that we can meet with his colleagues."

"It's something," Paul said with a sharp nod. "Clearwater, I think it's time to set up a chat with a certain Volturi defector."

"She wasn't a defector," Leah argued, not believing she was speaking up for Jane. She must have been spending too much time with the vampire. "She got fired."

There was a huge difference.

"_Detective_."

"I'll see if I can meet up with her tonight," Leah promised.

* * *

"I can't give you names."

That wasn't the response Leah wanted to hear.

"You can't or you won't?"

Jane bristled; she never liked anyone to challenge her, but she remained composed. She gave Leah her patented, expressionless yet somehow still terrifying stare. "Can't." She pulled out a chair and sat down, legs crossed. "This is the work of new recruits. It's been a while since I've personally been involved in Volturi personnel matters."

"How do you know it's the work of the Volturi?"

"I wouldn't say that, more like the work was outsourced," Jane paused to offer the detective a seat across the table. "They didn't do it, another group did. Bones inside a ditch…" she trailed off with a frown. "I don't understand why they couldn't simply toss them into Lake Michigan. But I suppose they will forever want to leave their mark. Their signature."

Leah eventually sat down. "Who's _they_?"

"Hitmen from the Velasquez Cartel," Jane said. "Unless there's a copycat, they're the ones responsible."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "The Velasquez works with the Olympic coven."

"The Velasquez works with _money_," Jane stressed. "Their only connection to the Olympic coven was Jasper. If it weren't for Maria's affinity for him…"

"They killed Garett. The Velasquez must know that if the Denali's find out about their involvement, Tanya is going to flip, and there goes their lucrative business arrangement."

"I am sure a particular matriarch will work to ensure that it does not happen."

Esme.

"Who arranged the executions?"

Jane's expression turned uncharacteristically stormy. "Traditionally, it would be Caius," she said through gritted teeth. "He takes pleasure in deciding the fates of others."

* * *

"I finally told her."

Leah nearly dropped her cup, which would have been truly unfortunate because inside was a delicious, robust brew of coffee. Jacob had fetched it along the way to work from a recently-open coffee shot. Leah might need to check out that place when she got the chance—she shook her head. No, not the time to think about delicious coffee. She had Embry to deal with.

Embry had told her. He had confessed to his girlfriend about who he truly was and managed live to tell the tale. The fact that he wasn't currently locked inside some government facility was a good sign.

Jacob leaned in, relieved, impressed, and relieved. "Wait, _really_? And she didn't call the CDC on you?"

"No, she didn't," Embry said, giddy as he pulled up a chair to the detectives' desks. "She's a paralegal, remember? Apparently, she worked on some case involving vamps living on the down-low," Embry explained. "I'm starting to think more people know about the supernatural than they let on. It's like some open secret."

Embry might be onto something, Leah thought, flashing back to an earlier conversation with Murad. "So, are you single now?" she asked, relaxing in her seat with her arms crossed. Probably not, she surmised. Embry looked too happy to had been recently dumped. Good for him.

"Nope," Embry declared, widening his grin. "No, I'm not," and then with a wink, he added, "She thinks it's _hot_."

Leah dropped her arms and snorted.

Jacob let out a hearty laugh.

"I'm proud of you," Leah said, reaching over to pinch the younger cop's cheek. She chuckled at his embarrassed expression. "Advice: don't mention about what happens during our runs. You know the whole shifting-in-the-buff thing. I'm sure your girlfriend won't appreciate that and may make some assumptions." She shook her head. "Not really in the mood to be involved in yet another relationship strife."

Jacob let out an amused yelp.

Leah's comment only deepened Embry's embarrassment. "You know, Leah, I expected that from Jacob or the boss, not from you."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Before Embry to make another snarky reply, Leah told him, "No, seriously, good for you. That's one less weight on your shoulders."

Embry gave a relieved sigh. "Ain't that the—"

"_Call, my office_!"

Embry rose from his seat. "Gotta help Paul out. Our captain isn't as smart as he likes to think," he joked. "We got this new computer program that I have to teach him how to use. Mind you, he attended all of the trainings." He rolled his eyes, waving both hands. "Yay me."

"Stay strong, man."

Embry nodded. "Catch you guys later," he said, hopping out of his chair. He winked as he stole a handful of jelly beans from Jacob's precious bowl of sweets and scurried away before Jacob could lecture him about his lack of respect.

Leah waved goodbye.

"You know, he could've asked for some," Jacob grumbled, tilting his candy bowl with a frown. "That's called stealing—I hope Paul chews him out."

Leah had no sympathy. "You'll live," she said. "Anyway, I thought you were supposed to be staying away from sweets? I'm telling your sister." She snorted when her partner stuck out his tongue. "Very mature of you, Black. Very mature."

"You know I have a weakness for jelly beans."

"Stop whining and get back to work."

Jacob made a salute. "Yes, ma'am."

Shaking her head, Leah finally addressed the ringing phone on her desk. "Clearwater." She instantly recognized the voice on the other line: Sergeant John Meloni, one of the most decent cops around and the one who trained her. "Oh, hey, it's been a while… Yeah, sure, we'll be there." She ended the call and announced, "Vice picked up someone of interest. Wants us to check it out."

* * *

"We picked her up about an hour ago along Monroe. A real piece of work," Sergeant Meloni informed Leah and Jacob as he led them through the station. He was stopped by one of the detectives, hanging him an evidence bag. He thanked the man and faced the newcomers. "Selling this," he added, wagging the bag. He huffed when both detectives' eyes widened. "Yeah, figured you'd know about it."

"The question is," Jacob took the bag and examined with Leah peering over. "How do _you_ know about it?"

Meloni crossed his arms. "There are rumors." He smirked. "Why do you think I called you here in the first place and not my friends at Gang's?"

"Can we borrow the evidence?" Leah asked, eyeing the bag; inside was fucking gold. "Promise to give it back to you."

Meloni shrugged before turning back around and resuming his walk. "As long as you follow procedure and don't toss me into the fire, I don't give a damn what do you with that."

Leah smiled, taking the bag from Jacob. "Thank you," she said with sincerity. Meloni always came through. "Can we talk to your newest guest?"

"Yeah, sure," Meloni said. He turned to the right and led the detectives to the row of interrogation rooms. "Have fun. Like I said before, she's a piece of work."

"And how is that?" Jacob asked.

"Oh, you'll see when you deal with Miss Cassandra Meeks, yourself," the sergeant said, shaking his head, and then told Leah, "You are always welcomed to come back to Vice." He gestured the squad area and its limited occupants. "Goodness knows we need the people."

Leah politely declined the offer, but she kept it in mind for anyone interested. Vice had been one of the units most devastated by last year's public corruption scandal. The arrests and firings of multiple cops did not improve the unit's spotty reputation.

"Speaking of vice," Jacob said, "If she was caught selling this…" He pointed at the bag in Leah's hand. "When why are you involved?"

"We have responsibilities, too, Detective Black. After all, she was roaming around our favorite part of Monroe, where hookers, johns, and pimps like to roam. You know, _our_ jurisdiction." Meloni then jerked his head in the direction of the interrogation room. "She's in there."

"Booked her yet?" Jacob asked.

Meloni shook his head. "Wanted to wait until you guys talked to her before making a movie," he said, stopping in front of the room. "I know about your case. Not everything, but enough."

Leah thanked the sergeant before opening the room with Jacob right next to her. "We'll take it from here."

"It'd be best if your partner stays out here," Meloni suggested, stealing Jacob a glance. Despite his tone being sharp, there was no malice behind it. "She's not a fan of men. Went on this whole rant about 'fuckboys', her words, as she was hauled into the back of the patrol car. She refused to speak to any of the guys. Ladies only."

* * *

"Good afternoon, Cassandra Meeks, I am Detective Clearwater from…"

"Tia."

Leah raised an eyebrow as she maneuvered around the room until she reached the chair across from the other woman was sitting. She studied Cassandra: mid-twenties, maybe Hispanic-descent. Pretty, not haggard, and judging on her attention, didn't look like the usual Monroe-lot. Interesting. "Pardon?"

Cassandra held her head up high. "Tia," she declared. "Cassandra is my government name."

"Tia," Leah repeated with a nod. She could give the other woman that respect. "Good afternoon, Tia, I am Detective Clearwater. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about your arrest."

Tia flipped back her long black hair and slumped in her seat. She wasn't afraid; this probably wasn't her first interrogation. There were pros and cons to that. She watched through curious eyes as the detective finally took her head. "A female cop," she said. "About damn time."

"Not a fan of men?"

"Not a fan of Vice," Tia bit out. "They're known for giving me and the other girls a hard time. Why come after us? All we're doing is trying to make things neat."

Leah didn't comment on the merits of the sex trade. Instead, she pulled out the evidence bag and tossed it to the middle of the table. She folded her hands, watching Tia as the other woman stared at the object, not knowing how to react to the sight. "Do you know what that is?" Leah asked.

Tia adverted her gaze and shrugged. "Don't know."

"You don't know?" Leah asked, cocking her head. She had found that hard to believe. "You were caught trying to tell it."

Tia cursed under her breath and shrugged again, this time adding hands to the movement. "It lights up," she said. "Never seen it before, so I thought: hey, maybe I can make some money off of this? Under the table, without worrying about taxes and all that shit…"

"Where did you get it from?"

"I found it."

"Where?"

"It was given to me."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "Stick with your story, Tia," she sharply advised.

Tia huffed. She clearly didn't want to say anything, but she also didn't want to get booked and charged. That was the reason why she was offering to speak with Leah in the first place. "My boyfriend," she eventually admitted. "This guy I was seeing…" She wrinkled her nose. "Ricky."

"Ricky." Leah nodded as she jotted down some notes. From the sounds of it, Tia wasn't a big fan of her boyfriend; they must have had a falling out. She looked up. "Last name?"

Tia shrugged. "Dunno."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You don't know your boyfriend's last name?"

Tia crossed her arms. "We're just messing around."

"You said he was your boyfriend."

Tia frowned. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"So, in other words, the relationship was casual."

Tia rolled her eyes. "I guess."

"What happened?"

Tia bit her lip. "We got into a fight. He kicked me out, and I took that." She pointed at the evidence bag. "That thing was on the floor. It glowered. Looked different, so I thought I could get something out of it. It'd serve him right."

Leah glanced at the plastic in front of her, containing two UV bullets, then looked up, "Did you get something out of it?"

Tia snorted and rolled her eyes. "Obviously not."

"Tell me more about Ricky."

"He was a guy I was seeing. Like I said," Tia replied, voice tight. She dropped her arms. "What else do you want?"

"Describe him."

"I dunno. Black. Mixed or something. I think his mom is Puerto Rican," Tia said. "Tall. Has some meat on him." She smirked at that. "Not flashy. And charming. He's good at being that. Hides all of his, you know... BS." She sighed. "Yeah... that's Ricky."

"Where does he work?"

"At some family business, I don't know," Tia said with a shrug. "I think he works with someone in Missouri. He told me he was staying in Chicago until the end of the year. Maybe even more. He loved the city."

"When was the last time you've seen Ricky?"

"A few weeks ago. When he kicked me out."

Leah nodded. "That timeline corroborated with the heist. "Why did he kick you out?"

"Didn't you hear me before?" Tia sucked her teeth. "We had a fight. I don't know what was up his ass, but he was all agitated. Like a switch of crazy went off or something." She shook her head. "A couple of days before, he was happy, like he won the lotto. Told me he was gonna take me to Miami. And then, he became all paranoid, like someone was after him—So, the fight."

Leah nodded. Now, things were getting interesting. "What was the fight about?"

"Apparently, I was being too nosy," Tia said, rolling her eyes. "Look, we weren't married or anything, but I cared enough about the man to make sure he didn't end up in some ditch. Was that too bad?"

Interesting wording.

Leah shook her head, and then, "What made you so worried?"

Tia sighed. "One day. I think a week before… just as I got home, right? I was out all night, making that money and guess what I found in front of his door? A goddamn dog paw. Cut off. _Bloody_."

Both of Leah's eyes rose as she wrote down the shocking events. "Did you call the police?"

"Hell no," Tia said. "I've been on the streets most of my life. I knew what that shit meant. Someone was sending a message, and I wasn't trying to be involved. I got a kid, you know. Yeah, he's with my mom, but still…" She shook her head. "Oh, _no_."

Leah didn't blame her. "You told Ricky?"

Tia slammed a fist on the table. "Of course, I did. I told him he needed to watch his back, but he claimed I was being too dramatic." She let out a humorless laugh. "You believe that shit?"

"And then, he kicked you out?"

"And then, he kicked me out," Tia confirmed, voice bitter. She looked up at the detective, cocking her head out of sudden curiosity. "Why you asking about him, anyway?"


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

* * *

"Ricky Ricardo…" Martinez pinned the subject's mugshot onto the giant corkboard decided to the Green Lawn Murders' investigation. A couple of days had passed since Leah had dropped information on the potential newest victim. "I know. Creative name." He faced the group around him. "Last seen a few days after the heist."

"Black, know about him?"

Jacob shook his head. "Never seen the man before, Captain."

"What else you know about him, Martinez?"

"He was a shapeshifter, which makes sense that's the one species allowed to join the Fangs," the detective explained. "Grew up with mom who's still living in Miami. He moved up to St. Louis to live with his dad a few years back. Went to juvie for larceny. Dad disappeared in 2010, and the rest was history. He was a mule with some experience in taking things that weren't his."

"I notice you're using the past tense. Are you that sure he's gone?"

Martinez shook his head. "It's not looking good, Capt."

Paul sighed.

"You mentioned something about him going to juvie," Aisha pointed out to Martinez. "What about a rap sheet that actually counts?"

"There is none," Martinez said. "Even checked with Saint Louis PD _and_ Miami PD."

"Feds have him on their radar?" Paul asked.

"No," Jacob said. "But we've notified the ATF since they're interested in the heist case."

"We notified the Bureau, as well," Leah added.

"How old was this kid?" Aisha asked.

"Couldn't be more than twenty-one. He was definitely about that life, all while avoiding the law. The last thing I heard, he was becoming the understudy of Eric's bodyguard—Robert James."

"Whose DNA was found lodged in one of the skulls found in the ditch," Leah added. "Bella strongly believes that he was one of the victims."

"Which means chances are, Ricky Ricardo was there as well," Paul deduced.

"Hence the usage of the past tense," Martinez mumbled.

It was unfortunate. Despite Ricky's questionable life decisions, he was still just a kid. Not even twenty-one. It made Leah sick to her stomach. "Yeah, chances are," she confirmed with a grimace.

"It'd make sense that…" Jacob trailed off as he glanced to the right. He smirked as a familiar face came into view. "Oh, look who decided to finally make an appearance!" he announced, adding a whistle as everyone turned to watch Embry rush into the police station, almost dropping his belongings around the way. "Captain, go yell at him."

Sometime later, Embry apologized profusely as he tossed his belongings to the side and pulled up a chair. Allegedly, it was his girlfriend's parents' fault for living in Bloomington and not letting him leave for Chicago until much later at night. "But I'm still here!" he declared, lifting his cup of coffee.

Paul shook his head and told the younger cop to take a seat.

Leah redirected everyone's focus. "It's also important not to forget the animal cruelty crime allegedly committed at Ricky's doorstep," she said. "A severed dog paw was discovered by Tia. Still bloody."

Everyone's focus contorted in disgust, including Paul, who prided himself in not being squeamish. "What the hell is this?" he exclaimed, "The goddamn Godfather."

"I believe that was a horse's head," Embry corrected, lifting a finger. He dropped his hand when Paul glared at him. "I'm just saying…"

Paul wasn't entirely upset with Embry, just confused at the absurdity of the situation. He turned to Leah. "What did she do about the… severed animal part?"

"Flushed it down the toilet."

Paul looked like he wanted to shout a litany of profanity but instead decided with a much more professional approach. "Of course, she did."

"I don't blame her," Martinez said. "That shit's _disgusting_."

"Martinez, take to the Gang units and see if they know about people leaving around animal parts to tell a message."

"The send probably knew Ricky could turn into a wolf," Martinez said. "Hence the paw."

"And also suspected Ricky of being involved in the heist," Aisha added. "I mean, it's a paw. There are a quite few places around the world that cut off the hands as punishment for stealing."

"Good point," Paul said with a nod, but then, "I don't know… This doesn't sound like the work of the Volturi. A severed paw? Leaving people's bodies, well, bones out in the open? They're known for being far more discreet than this."

"But remember, Captain, they're not here," Jacob said. "Their associates are. Maybe they wanted to stand out? Do something different since the big bosses aren't around?"

"My source did mention something about the Volturi outsourcing to continue their dirty work in the US," Leah added, recalling her latest conversation with Jane. "The Velasquez Cartel came up."

"Who are friends with the Olympic coven," Aisha remarked.

"Some friends," Paul grumbled.

"I have a feeling they're more like an equal-opportunity partner," Martinez said, shrugging. "Hey, if the money's good…"

"Okay," Paul said, "So, we have Garret confirmed, Robert James more or less confirmed, Eric most likely confirmed, and Ricky Ricardo may be confirmed. That's four people. Eight sets of bones were found in that ditch. What about the others?"

Leah replied with, "That's all we have so far."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "So far?"

"They're not exactly giving us much," Martinez said, referring to the Fangs.

Jacob nodded in agreement. "Because they want to solve the problem on their terms," he said. "It's been really quiet on his front."

"Too quiet," Leah remarked.

Everyone nodded.

"Maybe they're waiting for the right time?" Aisha suggested. "They suspect the Volturi ordered the Green Lawn Killings., but they can't do much if the movers and shakers are in another country. It may not end well for both the Fangs and the Denalis if they make a move too early."

"It's a waiting game," Embry said, confident. "The Volturi has major interests in this country; someone's bound to pop up on this side of the pond."

"Any suspicious about the cartel?" Paul asked the crowd.

"No one, except for Leah, responded. "Didn't even consider them until my source mentioned it," she said. "As Aisha said, they were supposed to be friends of the Olympic coven."

"_Shit_."

"How about a search warrant, Captain?" Jacob suggested. "I think we can safely assume that the bullet found at Ricky's had something to do with the heist. We can also assume that his apartment was used as a stash house for the stolen goods before being moved elsewhere."

"The bullet could've simply rolled out of the package," Martinez added. "We're going to need that search warrant."

"We need more than assumptions," Paul said. "Jenks will only play devil's advocate."

Embry loudly cleared his throat. "Once again, sorry for my late arrival, but there's something that's been bothering me." He ran a hand across his forehead. "How did they not put up a fight? I mean, everyone knows shapeshifters and vampires don't mix, especially in that business. You're telling me that the victims just let some guys line up and shot them in the back of the head?"

Everyone exchanged looks, and then Leah said, "Bella didn't find any evidence of new injuries save for those made by the bullets. One shot per person."

"Which doesn't say much because the only thing left behind was a bunch of bleached bones," Embry argued. "Look, maybe it's nothing, but unless these guys were suicidal, I don't see being them forced into a warehouse without _something_ happening."

"He does have a point," Jacob said.

"Maybe a fight _did_ happen?" Aisha offered.

Leah shook her head. "Everything, including the crime scene, points to a peaceful meeting."

"Or they could've been drugged?" Martinez suggested with a shrug. "Or knocked unconscious."

"Nah, they were kneeling, backs straight a couple of feet away from the wall," Jacob said. "Except for Garrett, who was standing several feet away."

While the detectives continued tossing around scenarios, Paul moved his focus to the board in front of him. "Or," he said, gaining everyone's attention. "The perps could've been inspired at the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre."

Paul took a couple of steps back as everyone's eyes remained on him. "Remember, that whole incident wasn't some big gunfight. Bugs Moran's guys were told to meet up at the warehouse for some meeting about illegal booze. Some cops-wannabes rolled in; the guys thought they were going to get busted, so they faced the wall, hands, and legs spread out, ready to get patted down… Obviously, that didn't happen. They didn't see it coming."

Leah hid her smile behind her cup of tea. This was why Paul was made captain. "That can explain the lack of resistance," she added after taking a sip of her now lukewarm drink.

"Yes, it can," Embry said with a nod.

"It's a plausible theory, Captain," Aisha told Paul.

"So, what do you think, Captain, real cops, or imposters?" Martinez asked.

"I sure hope they're imposters, or else we got an even bigger problem." Paul frowned at the possibility. "Any traces of humans in that factory?"

"Couldn't find anything," Jacob said. "But that doesn't mean humans couldn't have been there. Remember, there are ways to mask your scent."

Leah slapped her forehead. Oh, right, she had completely forgotten about that. "The cartel does employ humans, albeit rarely."

"We picked up scents belonging to several vampires," Jacob said. "The imposters or not don't have to all be humans."

"No, they don't," Paul agreed. "And we're not going to sniffing around for cops who are vampires. It's a little thing called profiling, and we don't need the brass up our asses about this. Dirty cops will forever be a touchy subject. We need someone to _talk_. There had to be a reason why they were all inside that abandoned factory."

"I think it's time we got on the wire," Aisha suggested, earning a nod from her coworkers. "For lead purposes. The Fangs are being resistant. The Denali's are never going to talk to us."

"Snitches get stitches," Embry remarked.

"Plus, we don't have to get a subpoena for short term monitoring if we have reasonable suspicion," Martinez added. "And this is beyond reasonable."

Paul remained skeptical. "You're suggesting we should circumvent the interviewing process. The judge is going to have a fit."

"Why would he?" Leah asked. "Yes, he's a stickler for the rules, but it's not like we're spying on random people. Everyone we're targeting is under some sort of investigation."

"I see what I can do," Paul promised, then with a loud clap, "Okay, this is what we're going to do. Martinez, check on the mother and see if she can provide further insight into her son. Don't tell her that we believe he's dead. At this moment, he should only be treated as missing. Which I really do hope is the case. Dead gang members aren't very helpful—Take Jared with you."

"Got it, Boss."

"Saint Pierre, take Call with you and scope Ricky's apartment building. _Not his apartment_," Paul said. "The building isn't that shady. I'm sure the building management has tapes and whatnot. Try to verify the bloody paw claim."

Aisha nodded. "Yep."

"Black and Clearwater, look into this so-called family business and talk to the girlfriend and see if she's willing to dish out more information."

"She doesn't even know his last name. I doubt she can provide much else."

"They were messing around for quite some time," Paul pointed out to Leah. "She must've picked something up during pillow talk."

Leah sighed. "Fine."

* * *

"You said you didn't know the guy," Leah said, approaching her partner from behind hours later. She had noticed Jacob standing in front of the investigation, scrutinizing what she assumed was Ricky's profile. Once at his side, she glanced up at Jacob, who was tense with a deep frown across his face. He seemed troubled. "The way you're staring at his mug suggests otherwise."

Jacob glanced at his partner and somewhat relaxed, though the frown was still present. "I don't," he insisted, shaking his head. "He just resembles someone I used to know."

"Tia said he worked for a family business. You think he's related to Collin?" Leah asked. "Or the club's founders."

"He doesn't look like my dad if that's what you're wondering."

"I'm not," Leah quickly insisted. She didn't want to go down _that_ road with Jacob. Not now. His relationship with his father might even be more complicated that her relationship with Emily. "Though, based on the shit that's been going around here, would you honestly be surprised?"

"_Yes_," Jacob drew out the word, trying to convince himself that the possibility was down to zero. "Ricky's dad disappeared in 2010. Mine did way before that. Collin's still roaming in so-called retirement. Which leaves… Johnny."

"Assuming Ricky's related to any of the Fangs' bigwigs," Leah said, and then asked, "Johnny's another estranged family member?"

"He's from Collin's mother's side," Jacob stressed, sounding relieved. Leah couldn't blame him. "No relation to me. At least, any that would matter."

"What happened to Johnny?"

"Last thing I heard, he's dead."

"Does Ricky look like him?"

Jacob sighed. "He has his eyes…"

Leah cleared her throat. "I think you need to have a little chat with Wilson," she told him.

Jacob ran a hand down his face, releasing a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I know."

Leah dug into her pants pocket for gum. She tossed a piece into her mouth. "We're still down for tonight?" she asked, shifting the conversation to something lighter. Jacob looked like he needed a break.

"_Fuck yes_," Jacob groaned. "I need like you wouldn't believe."

Leah blew a bubble and popped it. "It won't be a full moon," she quietly pointed out, forlorn. She had still not reached the stage where she could phase on command. "So, I guess, I'll be running on my two feet with wolves. _Again_."

"Next week," Jacob assured Leah, squeezing her arm should and flashing an easy smile. He would always be more positive about Leah's progress than her. Upon receiving a nod, he dropped his arm. "I'll keep you posted on this conversation I _don't_ want to have with Wilson."

"Please do."

* * *

The run turned out as expected.

It was a much-needed run. Liberating. Refreshing, despite the early July night being hot and sticky. The run served as a perfect outlet to release all of the stress, frustration, and anger from work; plus, it was always wonderful out hang around the pack _outside_ of work.

But the night hadn't been perfect. Despite all of Leah's efforts, her wolf was still a stubborn sonovabitch, still refusing to make an appearance, just like the moon night. She had dealt with relatively, like she had a choice, but damn it, it was frustrating as Hell—She was starting to question her ability. Foolish, she knew, but couldn't help it.

"Maybe it doesn't like me?" Leah suggested once everything was over as she leaned against the back of Jacob's deep, looking up at the starry, moonless sky. The rest of the pack had already left the area, leaving Leah and Jacob behind. A blessing and a damn curse.

She sighed.

"You wouldn't be alive if _you_ didn't."

Leah gave Jacob a sharp look, which heat dissipated at the sight of the man stretching his arms before finally putting his shirt on. She was never one to stare, but _damn_. "Thank you for that," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She looked away, swallowing a couple of times. "Much appreciated."

Jacob chuckled. "Always here to help," he said, adding a wink. "Maybe you were in the mood?"

She seemed to be never in the mood.

With a huff, Leah pushed herself off the car. She looked around the forest opening, rubbing her hands together, suddenly possessed with the urge to get the hell out of here.

Eventually, Jacob reached his partner's side. "Next week," he promised, standing in front her Leah, squeezing both shoulders, looking down at her with an infuriating yet reassuming smile. "Next week."

Leah nodded, pointedly ignoring the comforting feeling of Jacob's hands. She forced a smile. "Looking forward to it, Black."

"Counselor, give us _something_."

Paul wasn't exactly _pleading_; that wasn't him modus operandi. It makes you week, he would always say, but damn, if it wasn't close enough. The captain's tone was the product of desperation; a couple of weeks had passed since the discovery in Green Lawn, and not much had been done on the court's side. Thanks to Sorio's past shenanigans, receiving warrant approval from the current judge was like pulling teeth.

Leaning against the desks with his arms crossed, Jenks studied the board in front of him. "There's not much I can do," he admitted. He had been doubtful from the very start. "You need suspects, suspects who are in this country. We already know the deal with the Volturi." He looked in Paul's direction. "Are you positive that these murders are connected to the Midway heist?"

Jacob answered for his captain, "It's the theory that makes the most sense."

"That's not what I asked, Detective," was Jenks' sharp reply.

Jacob bristled but remained tight-lipped. Jenks might not be the enemy, but that fact didn't stop Leah from sending the prosecutor a barely-masked glare.

"Yes, that's what most likely happened," Paul quickly added, in a shocking turn of events, trying to diffuse the tension. "Even the feds think so."

Everyone watched on as Jenks took a few steps forward, standing only a foot away from the investigation board, covered in information relating to the Green Lawn Ditch murders. Stroking his chin, Jenks scanned the pinned sheets for the umpteenth time. "Four out of eight victims," he said, glancing at the cops behind him. "Only two confirmed?"

"Three," Martinez corrected. "Another one is a most likely."

Jenks raised an eyebrow. "Most likely?"

"His ex's recollection led us to believe that Ricky Ricard could also be a victim," Leah clarified. "Her name is Cassandra Meeks, also known as Tia."

Jenks turned around and snorted. "You're relying on a statement provided by an _ex_?" he questioned sharply. "A known prostitute who was picked up by Vice to trying to sell a UV?" His expression turned into one of disappointment. "Come on, you have to give me something better than that."

Leah deeply frowned. Cassandra, no, _Tia_, might not have the best record, legally-speaking, but she had given him a significant lead and a potential victim. She reminded the prosecutor of that fact, but he wouldn't budge.

Jacob took a hopeful shot. "Ricky Ricardo may be the son of a Fangs founding member."

"If we use that, then what will stop me or anyone else from going after _you_?" Jenks said, giving Jacob a pointed look, and then quickly added, "No offense."

Jacob, with both hands up, backed off. "None taken."

Leah jumped in. "Who gives a damn if Tia's a prostitute?"

"The judge."

"Who is supposed to be impartial to that," Aisha pointed out. "The courts are no longer allowed to just sexual history or employment against a witness."

Jenks sighed. "Sullivan may not be anywhere near the vicinity than Sorio, but he has a holier-art-thou attitude that hasn't earned him many friends," he explained, and then added, "Look, I'm not trying to give you all a hard time. I only want to make sure all of your hard work doesn't get tossed out of the window before the fun begins."

"A bloodied animal body part was found outside his front door," Paul argued. "A UV, a contraband bullet, was found at his apartment by someone who tried to sell it. How is that _not_ enough for a _search_ warrant?"

Everyone else looked at Jenks, waiting for an answer. It was a fucking _bloody paw_, for goodness' sake. Nothing else needed to be said.

"It's called circumstantial evidence," Jenks argued.

Paul threw up his hands. "But the damn paw!"

"How do you know the girlfriend wasn't lying?" Jenks asked everyone. Him playing devil's advocate was understandable. He was preparing for a protentional showdown with a defense lawyer, but it was still infuriating to hear. "Where's the evidence?"

"In the sewer," Jacob said with a frown.

Jenks raised an eyebrow, absolutely not impressed. "Yeah, I'm going to need more than that," he informed everyone. "_Tangible_ is the keyword."

Paul rolled his eyes. "We appreciate your consideration, Counselor," he grumbled. "Any word of advice for us poor law enforcement folks?"

Jenks turned around, facing the board. He took a few moments to mull over the options. "The UV the ex was trying to sell, it was found in Ricardo's place, correct?" And when he received confirmation, "Is there any way you can connect this particular UV to the ones purchased by the Volturi? It's a long shot, I'll admit it, but a match can serve as enough justification to show a connection to the heist. If you can do that, then we may not even have to mention Cassandra Meeks."

"_Tia_," Leah corrected under her breath.

"And then, we can get our search warrant?" Paul asked Jenks.

"Then, you can get your search warrant, Captain."

* * *

Leah received the text from Benjamin the following Monday as she returned from a bathroom break: _You'll appreciate the fax coming your way. Lunch is an acceptable form of payment._

_You can't eat lunch,_ she replied.

_Sure I can. Just limited in my options._

Chuckling under her breath, Leah bee-lined to the squad's fax machine. She didn't have to wait long for the pages to start spewing out. One by one, Leah skimmed the pages, completely in awe. Her mouth twisted into a smile. "You, wonderful vampiric bastard…" she breathed out, holding a hand to her chest, relieved as hell.

"Vampiric? Is that a real word?" Jacob remarked, approaching his partner from behind. He peered over her shoulder. "What do you have, dear partner-in-crime of mine?"

Leah's grin expanded the face. This was the best news she had recently in goodness-knew-how-long. She held up the pages for Jacob to see and proudly declared, "Our search warrant."

* * *

"The ATF confirmed that the bullets specifically designed for the Volturi matched the bullet sound at Ricky Ricardo's place," Leah carefully informed the prosecutor before her. In a stroke of luck, she and Jacob were able to catch Jenks before he was scheduled to spend the rest of the morning inside a courtroom.

Jenks pinched the bridge of his nose. "That doesn't—"

"Even if Rocky someone wasn't involved in the heist," Jacob argued, speaking over Jenks and his protests. "He must have known something about it. He probably allowed his buddies to stash the goods at his place… Look, you wanted us to get evidence, well, we got you some damn evidence."

"This _has_ to be enough for a search warrant," Leah added, pointing at the ballistics results still in the prosecutor's hand.

Jenks' gaze dropped to the report. He scanned it one last time before dropping the pages onto his desk. Shifting in his seat, he folded his hands over the report and let out a loud sigh. "Give me an hour."

* * *

"Please make sure to grab the door rug, as well," Leah informed the closest crime investigator in view as she walked further into Ricky Ricardo's Albany Park apartment. The specific rug was made to allow people to scrape off any dirt and whatnot from the bottom of their shoes before entering the apartment. The material wasn't designed to be tossed into a washing machine; it had to be scrubbed clean.

If Tia was indeed telling the truth about the severed paw, then some evidence should be left around.

"Well, the place hasn't been cleaned to toe," Jacob observed, coming from behind Leah, pulling up on a pair of gloves. "That's a good thing."

Leah nodded. "And Tia hasn't been here," she noticed, greeting cops and investigators along the way. There must have been more than a dozen people squeezed inside the medium-sized two-bedroom apartment. "At least, not since Vice picked her up."

"Love an undisturbed place," Jacob. He nudged Leah's arm with an elbow. "Trust your instincts. They're your friends. Friends, _Clearwater_, not enemies."

"Yes, Master Black," Leah said with a roll of her eyes, earning a laugh the man. With following close by, Leah went to the least occupied room, the main bedroom. "You have the UV detector?"

Jacob pulled out the device from his pocket and nodded. "Yep."

The bedroom wasn't scrubbed top to bottom, but it wasn't dirty either. It was a standard room, with a made-up queen bed, a couple of dressers, a closet and a pile of clothes in one corner, undoubtedly for laundry—which could be a clue. People usually don't leave around dirty clothes before purposely disappearing for good. Usually.

Nothing flashy caught the detectives' eyes, except for a safety deposit box found under the bed, locked. CSI could take it way and break the lock.

"At least, he was smart," Jacob remarked, searching through the drawers. "He left nothing indicating he was a thief. No weapons, either."

"Maybe he took them with him," Leah suggested. "For protection. Any luck on the UV's?"

"Nope." Jacob slammed a door shut before moving to the closet. Inside didn't show much besides a gym bag. He pulled a button-up shirt from a hanger and picked up the bag. "Find anything worthwhile?"

Leah waved a box of an unopened box of extra-large Trojan-brand condoms, "He practiced safe sex and thought highly of himself." She checked out the box before returning it to the small bedside table. "Or was seriously packing…"

Jacob let out a hearty laugh before tossing Leah a shirt. "Here," he said, rummaging through an unzipped gym bag. "Get the scent."

Leah looked at the piece of clothing in her hand. _Thank goodness_, no one else was inside the room. "Really?" she asked. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a member of the canine unit."

Jacob almost dropped the bag from laughing so hard. "You don't remember joining the club back in September?"

Leah cast an unimpressed look. "_Fuck you_, Jacob."

"As appealing as that sounds, I'm not trying to start any more drama—"

Leah groaned at the comment, but then reminded herself that he was only messing with her. That was what they did; they did it all the time, never a big deal, or why change things now? She suppressed any sparks of interests and added, "You're so immature."

"What?" Jacob gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "I just want to make sure Sam doesn't chase around with a flaming pitchfork, and I _don't_ want to hear Paul's mouth."

Leah had to chuckle at the thought. She honestly doubted Paul would care as long as work wasn't affected. And Sam? That would be a sight to see. "A flaming pitchfork?" She lifted an eyebrow. "And I highly doubt Sam would do that. He has a new woman in his life to worry about."

"But, are you one hundred percent _sure_?" Jacob wondered with exaggerated seriousness as he returned to searching within the bag. He pulled out some clothes and an envelope. One grand found inside, fantastic. "Doubt isn't absolute."

Leah tossed Jacob an extra evidence bag. "Just do your job, Black."

"Remember that scent, Clearwater," Jacob said, pointing at the shirt. "And remember—"

"The nose doesn't lie," Leah grumbled. She held the clothing to her nose and deeply breathed it in. It hadn't been recently washing, but it wasn't exactly soiled. She could up the distinct scent of detergent; the garment was probably worn a couple of times. "I feel like I'm a fucking dog…" she mumbled under her breath.

Jacob grinned. "Well, technically—" His statement was cut off at the sight of an investigator standing at the entrance to the bedroom. "What's up?"

"I think you want to see this." The investigator held up a sizeable familiar bottle with a gloved hand. "Is this what I think it is?"

Jacob made a noise in his throat.

"Wolfbane," Leah confirmed.

"Take it," Jacob told the other woman. "But we're not submitting it into evidence unless we have a choice. Under the law, we're treating Ricky as a human."

The investigator nodded. "Understand, Detective," she said, leaving the room.

"I think he was there…" Leah said, eyes widening, pleasantly surprised. Holy shit, it looked like Jacob knew what he was talking about after all. "His scent, it's… familiar."

* * *

Jacob gave Leah a thumbs up. "Congrats for passing Level One."

"Shut up."

Jacob winked before picked up a few strands of hair from a hat found on the ground. "Unfortunately, just the scent won't do. He could've been at the factory before shit hit the fan," he explained, but he did appear to be pleased with Leah's discovery. He placed the strands inside the evidence bag. "Told you. The nose doesn't lie."

Leah scoffed. "Is that your new slogan now?"

Jacob's expression was pensive. "Do you think I'll get rich if I trademark it?"

"Doubt it."

"Damn."

* * *

"What the hell is this?"

Everyone's attention turned to the front door, where, standing under the threshold, was a woman, confused. Hispanic, upper twenties to lower thirties, dressed in casual clothes. Based on the suitcase next to her and the fatigue displayed on her face, she must've just returned from a trip.

"What's going on?" She slowly asked, adding a gulp. She leaned her suitcase against the door frame and took a step forward, drinking in the hectic scene. "Is Ricky in trouble? Of course, he is. None of you would be here if he weren't…" She brought a hand to her mouth and said behind it, "He's a good man. I swear he is."

Leah and Jacob shared a look.

Pulling out her copy of the search warrant, Leah carefully approached the woman and introduced herself. The woman was afraid (as most people), but not entirely stunned. Once finished, Leah directed everyone else to return to their duties and then asked the newcomer the most pressing question of the moment, "And you are?"

"Miranda Perez," the woman slowly replied. She cleared her throat a couple of times. "Ricky Ricardo is my husband."

This was new.

"Oh."

Martinez hadn't mentioned anything about Ricky being married. No one had. Leah checked with Jacob, who appeared just as surprised as her. He silently agreed for Leah to take charge of the questioning.

Miranda appeared to overlook the detectives' shock and asked, shaking her head, "I don't understand…" she trailed off as she stepped aside to let another cop enter the apartment. "What is this about? Why are you here with a search warrant?"

"We're investigating your husband's possible disappearance," Leah said.

Miranda's eyes grew exponentially as she drew in a sharp breath. "Disappearance?" she choked out.

Leah nodded. "Why don't we sit down?" She suggested, gesturing to the small kitchen. No one else was inside the room. "I'll explain everything."

Inside the kitchen, Leah sat down at the glass table while Miranda retrieved a mug from the cabinets, went to the fridge and poured herself a glass of juice. Leah patiently waited as the woman sat down at next to her, eyes distant. She looked utterly beside herself.

"When was the last time you heard from your husband?" Leah asked Miranda in a calm, unhurried voice.

Miranda didn't respond immediately. She took her time sipping on her drink, and once she was ready, pushed aside the glass. "A couple of weeks ago," she quietly replied, wrapping her arms around herself, rocking back and forth in the wooden kitchen chair. "I know. It sounds bad, but… our marriage is on the rocks. I needed a break from him. From this city… so I visited my family in DR. Just came from the airport."

"When did you leave, Miss Perez?"

Miranda stared at the empty glass. "About three weeks ago…"

Leah nodded as she jotted down the information.

Three weeks ago—Around the time of the heist.

"I don't know," Miranda said with a gulp. She didn't give Leah any indication that she was lying. "If not at work, then St. Louis? Miami? He has family there."

"Where does he work?"

"At a family business," Miranda replied. She didn't sound too sure of herself. "I didn't look into it because all of the bills were paid. He made enough not for me to work because I had to. That's all I needed to know."

Leah slowly nodded, though she held some doubt. She had dealt with spouses like this before, acting like they had no idea what was going on. She had also dealt with spouses who truly believed ignorance was bliss. "So, you had no idea what your husband does for a living?"

Miranda shook her head, but it would take her a moment to find her voice." He followed in his father's footsteps. Said he'd be the smarter one this time." She sighed. "He was a transporter."

Okay, now, they were getting somewhere.

"Of?"

"Anything with value," Miranda admitted, but then added, quite passionately, "Not drugs." She shook her head. "He would never mess with drugs. It's too messy."

"Where did his father work?"

"I don't know."

Miranda was now lying.

Leah released a deep breath. "Miss Perez, I'd hate to bring you in for obstructing a criminal investigation right after you've come back from your trip. Now, let me ask you again: do you know what your husband does for a living?"

"I didn't do anything wrong," Miranda practically shrieked. "I wasn't involving in any of this shit!"

Leah put up a hand. "All we want to do is find Ricky," she said. "We're accusing you of anything. Hell, we didn't even know you existed until twenty minutes ago."

Miranda rose from her seat, rubbing her hands together as she paced around the kitchen. She was nervous, terrified. "We have a big fight about a month ago," she said, following a moment of tense silence. "About money." She let out a humorless laugh. "Why else?" She walked to the table, picked up the glass, and placed it inside the sink. "I was tired of the BS, all of the disappearances, the shady people—I wanted him to have an honest job. Was that too hard to ask?"

Leah shook her head.

"He said that he'd stop. _Just one more chance, baby_, he told me. _Give me just one more week, and I'm out for good_, he told me." She shook her head. "You don't _understand_ how many ties he told me that lie." She shook her head again. "I couldn't do it this time, so I left. Wanted to take a break."

Leah nodded, then asked, "Why one more week?"

"He said it was going to hit it big," Miranda cried, eyes watering. "And anything will be fine. He and some of his Saint Louis boys had this grand plan that would solve all of our problems."

* * *

"Good news?" Leah asked Bella a couple of days later.

"It depends. Definitely not for a certain family," Bella said as she retrieved her last report. She handed it to Leah. "I sent the lab the DNA sample from Ricardo's place and the rest of the unconfirmed bones in search for a match. Usually, the turnaround time isn't this quick, but they did owe me a favor. Long story." She shook her head. "Anyway, it's a match. Unless you have a better explanation, Ricky Ricardo was one of the victims."

Leah and Jacob shared a forlorn look. As Jacob pulled out his pull to quickly dial Paul's number, Leah closed her eyes and ran a hand down her face. "Well, fuck."


	32. Chapter 31

**Author's Note:**** I apologize for the long-than-expected hiatus. Writer's block hasn't been too kind to me until earlier this week. Also, after re-reading the already posted chapters and being absolutely _horrified_ by the number of errors and inconsistencies that I could've sworn I had eradicated, I decide to revise the story (and rewrote the last half). Thank you so much for bearing with me, and I wish you all and your families well during this pandemic.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-One**

* * *

"You know, we should be heading to work right now."

Leah didn't want to think about work.

Not now. Not while she sat on along the lakeshore, legs folded into a pretzel with Jacob laying down next to her. Thankfully, they had a couple of sheets in the trunk of the car, and therefore didn't have to worry about their work clothes being inundated with sand as they watched the calm waves of Lake Michigan.

It was a perfect morning for an impromptu stop at the lake. Not too hot, not too humid. The time meant that the usual rush of crowds wouldn't appear for another thirty minutes. There were only a couple of people in the vicinity, one walking long in one-inch water while the other ran past them.

She smiled down at Jacob before returning attention to the sight of the rising sun, introducing Chicago to dawn was beautiful, with the changing colors of the sky, the mist rising from the calm Lake Michigan water and chirping birds. Leah breathed in the air, stretching out her arms. "We have time," she insisted.

She wished she had taken the day off.

The thought of staying here all day, on a Northside beach, eating away, laying for a nap, maybe work on a tan, take a dip in the water... that sounded so nice. So _needed_.

"Five more minutes."

"Oh, come on, Black, you're not enjoying the view?"

"That's the problem," Jacob mumbled, rolling his shoulders. He was relaxed, perhaps a little too relaxed. "Ten more minutes, and I'll be knocked out cold before receiving an angry, profanity-filled call from our captain."

Leah chuckled softly; oh, she could imagine her captain, pacing back and forth inside his office, screaming into the phone while making sure that every other word was "fuck". For someone who often teased about Jacob for being dramatic (and a worrier), Paul was no better. "You can just blame me," she offered with a wink.

Jacob snorted. "Yeah, something tells me that won't fly." He slowly sat up, leaning back on his elbows. His attention was on the horizon, where the blue water met the sky. He deeply breathed in. "Nature is an amazing thing, isn't it?"

Leah unraveled her legs, shook them a couple of times on the sheet. She folded and wrapped her arms around them, leaning her chin onto her knees. "I love the water."

"There are beaches in L.A."

Leah smiled at the thought. She was looking forward to the trip, even brought the plane tickets before she talked herself out of it. "Yeah, but I heard the Pacific is freezing, even on the hottest day."

"A little dip won't hurt—Fall, isn't it?"

"Paul will shoot us with a load of silver if we dare go before then."

Jacob let out a hearty laugh. "You got a point."

* * *

"I just wanna say that I don't appreciate you guys underestimating my abilities," Embry declared, leaning back in his chair, almost to the point of falling over. Which would've been hilarious, and Leah would've expressed as such, after making sure the man's okay. She wasn't a monster. Sadly, Embry caught himself hitting the ground. "Name checks are _below_ me."

"Not until you officially become detective," Jacob taunted, tapping the top of the younger man's head before taking a sip of his coffee. He glanced at Jared, who was sitting across from Embry, looking just as enthused in his work. "How're you doing, young padawan?"

Jared gave Jacob a dirty look, earning a laugh from Leah, "This is seniority-based _discrimination_," he said, dramatic. "Just because Embry and I aren't detectives doesn't mean you subject us to work slated for unseasoned rookies."

That earned a high-five from Embry.

Leah gave both officers an unimpressed look. Embry and Jared had seen more active and done more detective work in one year then they did in their former squads _combined_. "Here we go…"

Jacob was just as _sympathetic_ as his partner, "You act like you're on garbage duty. Stop complaining and get to cracking on those names," he ordered, slapping the desk a couple of times. "We need anyone linked to Maria, who can be a hitman."

Embry rolled his eyes. "We're talking about a cartel," he pointed out. "_Anyone_ can be a hitman."

"He has a point," Jared remarked. "Hey, maybe Jasper decided he wanted to re-live up to his Sicario nickname by working for Maria again?"

Honestly… given how crazy this investigation had been, Leah wouldn't be surprised.

"He's in prison," Embry reminded the younger cop. "Kinda hard to personally off someone on the outside from _prison_."

"Hey, stranger things have happened!"

"Just do your job," Jacob implored as he walked away with Leah by his side. "The man who signs off on our paychecks wants an answer by the end of the day."

Embry and Jared leaned back in their chairs and groaned loudly.

* * *

"Okay, one half of Team Wire, did you get anything?"

A look of frustration instantly washed over Aisha's face. It appeared that she and Embry hadn't gotten much information during the past couple of days. "Not really…"

Paul was disappointed by the news, but like everyone else, not surprised. "Did you at least find out why Garrett was working with the Fangs?"

Aisha shook her head. "No one talked about that," she admitted. "_However_, did you know that Garrett was messing around with Kate? Apparently, they were mates."

Leah and Jacob locked eyes for a split second.

"That's serious," Martinez said, stating the obvious. "Very serious."

"No shit," Paul said. He ran a hand down his face. "Is Kate of the Denali doing anything about her murdered boyfriend?"

"Mate," Leah corrected.

Paul rolled his eyes. "_Mate._"

"She's engaged in Operation Damage Control with Carmen," Aisha said, answering the captain's question. "Tanya's five seconds away from raising Hell..."

That was nothing new.

Leah sighed.

"So is Collin," Jacob remarked.

"Why the wait?" Martinez wondered. "It seems like both the Denali's and the Fangs are taking their sweet time launching their revenge tour."

"Maybe they are just as much in the dark as we are?" Leah suggested with a shrug. "We all knew who was the mastermind, but we have no suspects. At least, anyone, we can arrest. Or they can target."

"Speaking of targets, anything on Maria's minions?"

"Call and Cameron are still sifting through names," Martinez told the captain. "We have a couple of hits. Get you something by the end of the day."

"Okay," Paul said, rising from his seat at the edge of a desk. He clapped once, and then a second time, more loudly. "This is what we're going to do: Clearwater and St. Pierre, pay Rosalie Hale a visit. She _has_ to know what's going on with Olympic Coven. Maybe she can provide some insight into their next move."

* * *

The original plan was to confront Rosalie during her off-hours. She usually more cooperative when she didn't have to worry about clients questioning why a couple of cops were chilling in her waiting room. But Leah and Aisha didn't have time to wait until later, especially after finding out that Rosalie was flying out to New York the following morning, scheduled to return next week.

They found out that piece of information thanks to an overly-eager intern who most likely wouldn't last long in Rosalie's business. Rosalie liked it when her underlings kept their mouths shut at the right time. But maybe the lawyer would give the young man a little leeway. According to him, he had one semester of law school under his belt and was on the job for a week.

He would learn soon enough, Leah thought as she put away her badge.

After thanking the young man for his assistance, the detectives followed him into the waiting room. The area was empty save for Alice, who was sitting at the far end, deeply engrossed on a phone conversation with a prospective client who was mentioning something about an extortion plot, involving his much younger girlfriend. The expression on her face was a cross between boredom and amusement.

"Good afternoon, Alice," Leah greeted about a minute later, snapping the paralegal's attention to the frank man over the phone. "We're here to see Rosalie Hale."

Alice blinked up at the detectives a couple of times, before smoothly informing the man on the other line that he would need to be put on hold. After placing the phone aside, she sat in her chair, cleared her throat, and asked with a tight smile, "Afternoon… Do you have an appointment?"

Aisha smirked. "Do we ever?"

"Who let you…?"

"Your very nice intern," Leah said, matching Aisha's smirk.

Alice looked behind the detectives, obviously peeved, but then put on her usual megawatt smile when she returned her attention to the detectives. She wasn't nervous, at least more than usual. This wasn't the first time she had been in contact with the Chicago Police Department. She glanced to her right, where Rosalie's office stood in the distance.

"She's currently with a client right now, but after that, she'll be free until standard closing time," she said, checking the time on her phone. "Come back in thirty."

Leah raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. She had fully expected to be turned away, put up a fight and butt heads with the impressively large security guards standing about ten feet behind her, and a couple of feet in front of the intern.

"This seems way too easy," Aisha remarked carefully, eyeing Alice with suspicion. "Your boss doesn't do drop-in's unless she's compelled to."

Leah waited for an answer.

Alice shrugged. "I believe your contribution to Novak's undoing is compelling enough," she said. "Come back in thirty. She'll be ready to see you then."

* * *

"Rosalie's hatred for Novak couldn't only be about the money," Aisha remarked as she and Leah walked out of the building. A half of an hour wasn't a long time. They could walk down Dearborn, get a couple of lattes at some café, and walk back. The beautiful weather called for it.

"It was about the disrespect," Leah said, putting on her sunglasses. She walked side-by-side with her friend down the street. "He operated like he ran the damn place."

"When is his sentencing again?"

"Next week. He took the plea. Fifteen in federal prison."

Aisha made a noise in her throat. "_We_ should've gotten the credit for it."

They should've gotten credit for many things, to be honest. But that wasn't how it worked; how it should work. It was about achieving justice, not stroking the agency's egos.

"Rosalie's willing to see us, isn't that credit enough?" Leah asked, not looking for an answer. "Novak was a part of a public corruption conspiracy including a shit ton of crimes that fall under RICO. That's the feds' jurisdiction."

"But when are we going to get something for _us_?"

"If everything works out, these murders," Leah said. "The feds are focused on the heist. We're focused on the aftermath. Eight bodies aren't nothing."

"We're going to bring the Volturi in?" Aisha asked with a snort. "The feds are all over them."

"Bringing down the Volturi is the target of a joint-initiative. The feds aren't going to be the only ones getting credit," Leah explained. "Plus, whats-her-name says that the cartel carried out the murders. We still can bring them in for ourselves."

Aisha sighed. "I appreciate your optimism, Clearwater."

"Well, someone needs to have it."

* * *

"If we had known you'd be so grateful for what happened to Novak, we would've gotten to him a long time ago," was the first time Leah said to Rosalie as she and Aisha were allowed into the lawyer's office. It was a half of an hour later, just like Alice had promised.

"No, you wouldn't. it was my intel that got him in trouble." Rosalie emerged from behind her desk, mouth twisted into her patented smirk. She was neither glad nor surprised to be in the presence of the detectives, but she made no efforts to disregard them. Instead, she pointed at a box full of unopened luxury chocolates. "Take some, if you like. It's a gift from a client who isn't privy to my dietary restrictions. I hear the quality is exquisite."

The sight of the sweets made Leah's stomach churned. She didn't forget about her _last_ run-in with chocolate. She glanced at Aisha, who shook her head. "We're good," Leah insisted. "Thanks."

Rosalie shrugged. "Your loss." Sitting at the edge of the desk, she crossed her arms and stared up at the detectives who made no efforts to take a seat. "Well… I know you are not here during your standard business hours because you miss seeing my face. So, what do you want?"

Straight to the point. Leah always liked that about Rosalie. "Tell us about Garrett."

Rosalie lifted her well-manicured eyebrow. She tried to mask her surprise with a look of curiosity, but Leah saw right through the facade. The fixer looked from one detective to the other. "What is this about?"

Aisha was the next to speak. "Oh, come on, Hale, you know damn well what this is about." She was never the one to mince words. "Just because you no longer work for Carlisle Cullen, doesn't mean you're no longer in the know."

Rosalie snorted, defiant as always. "First of all, Detective, I did not _work_ for him. He was not my employer. Second, I haven't seen Garrett in months," and when the detectives' expression turned skeptical, "When I said I was no longer involved in the Olympic business, I meant it."

"Why did you walk away?" Leah asked. She always wondered about that. Rosalie had it good with the Cullens. The family loved her, probably even thought of as an unofficial member of the coven.

"You had a good gig," Aisha added.

Rosalie pursed her lips, unraveled her arms only to cross them again. "Too much drama is bad for business," she said. "Esme is holding on her own, I give her that, but who knows how long that's going to last?" She shrugged. "How long is the Olympic going to keep its head above the tempestuous waters?"

Both detectives nodded.

"Ah, trouble in paradise," Aisha remarked.

_Understatement_.

"Esme is good at what she does," Rosalie said. "But everyone has their limits, and I'm sure Tanya is testing hers."

_Just like Genny said_, Leah thought, then, "Why?"

"Why?" Rosalie brought a hand to her chest. "I know you are aware of the power struggle within the Olympic. She's holding on until Edward gets out of Alcatraz and put things in order."

"Which at this rate, won't be able for another twenty years," Aisha said, smug. "Thanks to his ill-advised involvement in Mike's murder. I highly doubt the federal court will be as lenient to the proposed Olympic savior as they were to Jasper."

Because Jasper wasn't seen as much of a threat, Leah concluded. It was an odd thing to consider, especially with Jasper's reputation as an enforcer, but the man had always been known for operating in the shadows. Perhaps, he preferred it that way.

Rosalie cut Aisha a glare. "I have no incentive to tell you both anything else."

Leah sighed. "Rosalie, I know we've worked on opposite sides for years, but I respect you. Always have." Her eyes met the fixer's. "Don't make me arrest you for obstruction."

"I'm sure you know that once you're back in the system," Aisha added, "Jenks is going to finish his crusade and slap even more charges on you. He has it out for you."

Rosalie huffed and finished the rest of her blood. She reached for the jug but snatched her hand back, and then looked at the detectives. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," she said with a half shrug. "Under other circumstances, the Olympic and the Fangs would have never cooperated, but they have a common enemy: the Volturi."

"They're banding together to take over Volturi's territory," Leah concluded. "And Victoria's."

"James' coven behaved like an extension of the Volturi," Rosalie pointed out. She scoffed and ended up pouring herself another glass of blood. "Garrett had a background in real estate. The Olympic wanted to make a deal involving territory near Midway without angering The Fangs. You do the math."

"What does Tanya want to do?"

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"How is Tanya handling Garrett's death?"

"Just as one would expect."

"Tanya wasn't also Garrett's biggest fan, but he adored Kate, Kate adored him, and Tanya would do anything for her sisters…"

"Including Irina?" Leah challenged.

"Irina's situation was a bit different; don't you agree?" Rosalie replied, raising an eyebrow. Her question was undoubtedly rhetorical. "Tanya can be intense. She's passionate about those who are close to her—I don't want to victim blame, but Irina did have it coming."

"What happened?" Aisha asked.

Irina had taken some pictures of her being in a very compromising position with Demetri. Who she was supposed to hate. Who Tanya had absolutely _despised_. It was all a mess, especially when somehow Tanya had gotten wind of the situation.

Nothing had been confirmed, though. It all was a rumor.

"I thought this conversation was about Garrett?" Rosalie questioned, clearly not in any mood to discuss the Denali drama. "Irina was attracted to the light and burned like a fly. That's all I'm going say on the matter."

Aisha nodded. "Understandable."

"That meeting was supposed to short and, more importantly, a secret," Rosalie carried on in a measured voice, perhaps reserved for a disposition of a court hearing. Her words, her sudden openness threw the detectives on a loop. "There was a party that night to celebrate a birthday. I was invited, but I had matters to attend in California. Didn't know about Garrett's supposed disappearance until I received a frantic call from Kate. They launched a search party, but couldn't find anything. It was as if he had disappeared in thin air."

"Where did they search?" Leah asked, jotting down some more notes.

"Green Lawn. Not far from Midway."

"Who knew about the meeting?" Aisha asked.

"It was discussed during a quarterly commission meeting," Rosalie said. "Meeting of the minds, all allies of the Olympic coven. According to Carmen, though, the details weren't discussed. For safety reasons."

"In your opinion, who tipped off the killers?" Leah asked.

"Tanya wouldn't have done it. After all, the pseudo-alliance was her idea, and she wants to make sure it doesn't fall apart. Anyway, if she wanted Garrett dead, she would've killed him a long time ago," Rosalie explained. "Now, the Cullen's… I just don't see the incentive. The business alliance between the Olympic Coven and the Fangs would've been beneficial for all…"

"So, in your opinion?" Aisha asked.

"The Volturi would've made the most sense."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm sure you heard about the plane heist. The Olympic had nothing to do with that, but the Fangs…" Rosalie frowned, shaking her head. "They should have never touched those goods."

Leah and Aisha shared a quick, surprised glance.

"How did you know it was the Fangs?" Aisha asked.

"Because of one its members wouldn't shut up about a big payday," Rosalie said. "We had a meeting with a few real estate developers the week before. I wasn't serving as counsel, but I know some folks would love to be advised on property legal matters. One of the men… he wasn't the leader, kept going on and on about delivering a down payment in cash. Made some off-handed jokes about 'jacking a plane'. Most didn't pay attention to him."

"Jokes about a plane and getting away with it?" Leah snorted. "In this day and age?"

Rosalie shrugged.

"You have a name?" Aisha asked.

"Eric. Eric Stonehill," Rosalie answered with a confident nod. "Called himself the Fangs representative."

Leah drew in a small breath. _Eric Stonehill_. Collin's cousin. The man who might have masterminded the entire heist, running his mouth. That _idiot_. After clearing her throat, she asked Rosalie, "You said that Volturi wouldn't have the most sense… Do you have some doubts about their involvement?"

"The Volturi likes to be discreet. Leaving a bunch of bones in an open ditch isn't discreet," Rosalie said, then, "They _do_ have a motive… my guess is that they solicited the hit."

Aisha lifted an eyebrow. "All the way from Moldova?"

"It's easier than you think, Detective. Over three hundred thousand _euros_ worth of gold and such was stolen. In case you didn't know, the euro has more worth than the dollar." Rosalie tilted her head, almost mocking, "Wouldn't _you_ be a bit upset about that?"

With her arms crossed and body against the back of the chair, Leah studied the lawyer for a moment, staring down as if trying to find the missing piece of a puzzle. Or an answer to a most pressing question that had been plaguing her for the past several minutes. Eventually, she decided just to ask herself, "Why are you telling us all of this?" Rosalie was never the one to participate in word-vomiting, especially when it concerned coven matters. "It can't only be about Novak."

Rosalie didn't respond immediately. She reached out for her glass, drained the rest of the contents in one gulp, and pushed it aside before looking at Leah straight in the eye. There was a fire inside them, something Leah hadn't seen from the fixer in years. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Rosalie declared, gaze steady. "We want the Volturi out of the picture just as badly, if not more, than you do… Sometimes we have to betray our values for the better good."

* * *

"You look well."

Leah quickly downed the rest of her water.

She hadn't expected such a comment, such an observation from the woman sitting across from her.

Leah's mind was flooded with possibilities, focusing on the therapist's meaning behind her words. Did she not look well before? Was she projecting her frustration? Did she wear her heart on her sleeve, despite being told she could be a closed book? Had she really been _that_ bad?

"Has anyone ever mentioned that you tend to think loud thoughts?"

Jacob. Numerous times.

Sue as well, but Leah always considered her mother's opinions as a product of being a mother. She knew her daughter very well, sometimes better than Leah. A scary, humbling thought.

"My comment wasn't inherently negative," Murad assured Leah, adding a small but sincere smile. "The opposite, really. You've definitely progressed."

Leah frowned, staring down at the folded hands on top of her lap. "I didn't know I was that bad."

"I wouldn't say that," Murad insisted, flipping through her prized note pad. She withdrew a pen from her shirt pocket. "How's everything been?"

"Busy."

"What else is new?"

Leah couldn't fight her grin even if she wanted to. She drained the bottle of her ice tea and tossed it into the garbage can next to the small couch she was sitting on. "We got new leads on our case."

"Always exciting."

"And tiring."

Murad nodded. "Is the prognosis good?"

"Trending in a positive direction," Leah said with a shrug, and then amended, "At least, I hope so." She sighed. "You never know with these cases."

"How are your relationships, both personal and professional?"

"It's been shockingly… stable," Leah said, not believing her own words. Not because she thought she was flat out lying, but because she simply couldn't imagine a time when she wasn't plagued by her relationship, both personal and professional, drama. It was odd, a pleasant surprise. She blinked a couple of times. "I mean, nothing's much changed."

"How's Sam?"

The man hadn't crossed her mind all day.

All week, actually.

"Good, I guess."

"And Emily?"

Leah's nose wrinkled at the sound of her cousin's name; she doubted that dreaded feeling would ever go away. "Abel's out of the hospital, recovering at home," she said, forcing a relieved smile. She didn't care about Emily, but her baby cousin deserved happiness. "He'll be one in October."

"And Emily?"

Leah frowned. Nothing went past Murad, a blessing and a curse. "I sure she's glad her son is out of the hospital. I suppose she's still with Sam, but I try not to get involved in all of _that_. I need to move on with my life. I think I've been doing a decent job?" She looked at Murad for validation.

She received a nod.

"And Jacob?"

Leah bit her bottom lip. She had hoped Murad wouldn't bring up Jacob's name. It was her own fault for thinking Murad would look the other way. She didn't mind brushing things aside, but she never forgot about it. Once again, a blessing and a curse. "He's good. _We're good_," she ended up replying without much thought. She swallowed, then added, "Yeah."

She didn't know what she had to add "yeah".

She didn't know what "yeah" even meant.

Murad raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Leah's eyes met the therapist's. "_Yeah_."

Murad slowly nodded, keeping her eyes on Leah. It was an unnerving gaze, and if Leah weren't _Leah_, she would've have cowered under it. Several, long seconds had passed when Murad let out a deep breath, placed her notepad on the small table next to her. "I want to ask you an honest question."

Leah's body tensed. She didn't like where this was heading. Then again, she usually felt that way during these sessions. Murad had an odd way of making her feel uncomfortable yet relieved at the same time. For the third time, a blessing and a curse. "Shoot."

"It's actually one question with a couple of follow up's, depending on your answer," Murad clarified. "Why don't you like talking about him?"

"Who?"

"The man you spend most of your workday with."

"What is there to talk about?"

Murad wasn't impressed with Leah's answer. Leah knew that. Murad knew that Leah knew that. "Based on these past several sessions, quite a few," she carefully said.

"We're friends. We work together. We're… bonded, mates, _whatever_…" Leah rolled her eyes, waving dismissingly. Doing so a couple of times. She tried to play it off so that Murad to leave her the hell alone. Which she knew wasn't going to happen. "It's not a big deal." She let out a snort. "Is that your honest question?"

Murad shook her head. "That was actually intended to be the follow-up."

"Oh."

"Are you attracted to him?"

The question hit Leah like a ton of bricks. No, it wasn't dramatic enough, not heavy enough. Maybe a freight train? Or an entire building? The Sears Tower seemed more like it. She stared at the therapist, jaw slack. She could only imagine the look on her face; she probably looked like a complete fool.

She _felt_ like a complete fool.

In efforts to ensure that she didn't say anything _wrong_, Leah chose the safest route, "We're friends," she said with a nonchalant shrug. At least, that was her intention.

It didn't appear to work with Murad. "That's not what I asked," then repeated her question, "Are you _attracted_ to him?"

Leah crossed her arms. "Why does it matter?"

"You're the one who said it wasn't a big deal."

Leah glared at Murad. What was up with this woman and her affinity for calling Leah out? She crossed her arms, trying to her best not to pout. She was unable to tell if she was successful based on Murad's blank expression. "It's not," she stressed.

Murad lifted an eyebrow. "Well?"

"He's not an ugly guy," Leah said, clearing her throat a couple of times. Several times. The answer was safe. Saying no wasn't going to do her any good because Murad would chew her own. It was safe because it didn't exactly reveal much. Physical attraction was nothing. She found plenty of guys attractive. It is what it is, she thought. "Far from it, actually…"

That wasn't what Murad meant.

Leah _knew_ what wasn't what Murad had meant.

But honestly, what was the point of all of this? Nothing was going to happen, and Leah was going to make sure of it. It just wouldn't… she didn't know. She liked what she had with Jacob. It was working for the both of them, and she was positive that Jacob thought the same way. That was why he had freaked out about the whole "bonding, not mating" thing.

"I don't want to talk about it," Leah eventually told Murad, leaving no room for an explanation or a change of heart. She was serious this time.

Leah needed a shot of wolfbane-infused tequila, right about now.

"Okay," was Murad's simple answer, but the therapist couldn't hide her disappointment and frustration from Leah. "We won't."

* * *

"Do you think it's ever okay to be a coward?"

The moment those words tumbled around of her mouth, Leah regretted them, but by the time she gathered enough common sense to stop, it was too late.

She knew what, rather _whom_ she was referring to. She wondered if her packmate, working behind the bar, knew as well. Probably did, she thought, frowning to herself. Nothing went past Quill—a blessing and a curse.

If anything got out of hand, she could simply blame liquid courage. After all, she was sitting at Quill's bar during Happy Hour, where shit tended to go down, where the wrong words always were voiced. Often around the wrong company. But she couldn't even blame it on the alcohol. The beer in her hand was wolf-bane free and, therefore, useless without any effects to Leah's faculties except for the bladder. She didn't even like the taste, but she was used to it. Out of habit—she slightly frowned at the thought. She wasn't an alcoholic, she knew that, but she supposed she should get her social drinking under control.

She shrugged and took another sip.

"Where is this coming from?"

Leah glanced up, relieved that Quill was ignorant to her…_whatever_. "Just wanted your opinion," she mumbled.

Days might have passed, but the conversation with Murad was still fresh in her mind. She didn't even know why it bothered her so much, but that barely masked look of disappointment on the therapist's face… she didn't want to see it again.

"Since when?" Quill said with a laugh, then stopped, understanding that he wasn't answering Leah's question. He put up a finger, silently asking the woman to wait for a second as he took a patron's order—a straightforward cocktail. Once completed, he stood in front of Leah, attention solely on her. "I don't know… I mean, it's usually not a _positive_ thing."

Leah nodded slowly. "Hm."

"I don't think anyone's immune to it," Quill continued. "Sometimes, being a coward, not confronting hardships, dilemmas, it's safe."

"Like a defense mechanism."

"Yeah…" Quill trailed off, bringing his eyes together. "So, are you going to tell me what this is about?"

Leah swallowed down any snorts with her drink. "Nope," she said, accentuating the "p". She glanced up at the bartender after a moment of silence. Quill had a concerned look on his face, for a moment, reminding her of Jacob, but far less intense. He didn't look at her as if she would crumble onto the ground at the blink of an eye.

"I can it being a good thing," Quill eventually added, "Sometimes, you're not ready to face the truth because fear and doubt can be pains in the ass. You got too many things going on. You're not physical, emotionally, _mentally_ ready for it." He shrugged. "Like I said, it happens to everyone, even the badasses."

Leah's smile was small but sincere. "You've always been the wise one, Quill."

"So, I've been told," Quill replied with a short, knowing laugh. He took a couple of newcomer orders before adding, cheeky, "Honestly, what would you guys be without my wisdom?"

Leah raised her glass. "Fucked," she declared with a grin before guzzling down the rest of the beer. She ordered another one, but this time with enough wolfbane to feel a buzz, and not enough fail a breathalyzer.

At the corner of her eye, Leah saw Aisha walking into the bar with Tiffany in tow. She smiled and waved both women over.


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

* * *

Fur was everywhere. There was _so much_ fur, and those goddamn flying bastards wouldn't leave her alone. Damn it, she needed a scratch, or maybe she could rub her body against the tree. She shook her head and emitted a couple of short breaths before lowering her nose to sniff the ground, lifting her nose breath in the fresh, night air.

The series of sharp barks from the rest of the wolves shook her out of her trance. She responded with her own barks before padding towards the rest of the pack and eventually following them deep into the woods. It wouldn't take long for them to focus on a target: a couple of adult bears roaming around the forest without any care in the world until it laid their eyes on the five wolves. They were putting up a good right, swiping at the pack with their massive paws, charging at them. There was a sudden, distinct smell of blood, not from the bears, but from Paul after one not. His wound was nothing drastic, nothing alarming enough for the pack to change gears, but it was enough to keep Paul at bay for a moment.

Throughout all of this, she was puzzled at what to do. She had seen this scene before, but only when she was standing on her two feet, half the size of her wolf now with significantly less firepower.

At the corner of her eye, she noticed a third bear, a smaller one but too big to be a cub. She considered charging after it. She could take it; after all, she was the fastest in the pack. It couldn't be that hard. But just as she was about to make her move, Jacob suddenly appeared in front of her, glowering down at her, growling at her into submission.

And she listened, and she stopped, didn't dare move a muscle. It was odd, troubling even, how much _power_ that growl had over her. She remained in the background, watching as the rest of the pack expertly took down the bears. In the end, she was still able to eat, but the intoxicating taste of meat didn't quell her frustration.

* * *

"You alive?"

"_Go to Hell_," Leah mumbled, pressing her face against the pillow. She didn't want to move; she just wanted to stay here on this fluffy bed with her arms wrapped around the equally-fluffy mounds of pillows and sleep. Probably for a few more hours. Her head was killing her. Her throat was dry. She was aching _all over_. So, it would be nice for Jacob and his teasing voice to have some pity and leave her be.

Jacob chuckled as he pulled on a far-edge of the blank in an attempt to coax Leah out of his bed; it didn't work. "Good morning to you, too, my dear." He tapped the mattress a couple of times. "C'mon, we don't have much time."

Leah twisted her body, facing the extremely amused _and_ fully dressed for work Jacob. She blinked a couple of times, disorientated. "For what?" she asked.

"It's Thursday."

Of course, it fucking was.

Groaning, Leah dropped herself back onto the bed. "I'm calling out," she declared. She was exhausted, and there should be no reason this bed was so inviting. It wasn't fair.

"So, Paul can yell at me?" Jacob snorted. "No, thank you."

Leah sat up on the bed with her back against the wooden headboard. "Aren't you the boss?"

"Not according to the Chicago Police Department, I am." Jacob pulled on the sheets again. "C'mon, Clearwater, I made you breakfast."

Leah's stomach growled in anticipation. Breakfast sounded nice, she thought, kicking off the sheets. She smacked her lips a couple of times; the taste of whatever animal was last night's second dinner still lingered. "Fine."

"You should call your mother," Jacob suggested. "She may have blown up my phone at four am, talking about how you've been kidnapped by the vampire mafia..." He blinked. "She doesn't... know?"

"She knows," Leah insisted. She had told her mother numerous times about the runs. She reached over for her phone on the bedstand and checked her calls. So, it seemed she hadn't called her mother. Yay. "So, she doesn't know," she mumbled. "I'll tell her."

"Please do before she starts demanding answers from the superintendent," Jacob joked, but then again, he wasn't. Leah could definitely see her mother causing a scene (which, to be honest, she couldn't blame her; a lot of things happened during the past year and a half). "C'mon," he added. "Time to get out of bed."

Leah eventually got out of Jacob's bed. Her muscles ached as she stretched her arms. Something that happened every time after the full moon; it was her body not getting used to being morphed into a giant wolf for a good four hours.

As she trudged to the bathroom with a change of clothes on her arm, Leah checked the time on her phone. 6:09 am. That meant she had only rested for three hours.

The only upside was the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

* * *

"So, it's not a five-course meal…" Jacob admitted, bashful, as he led Leah into the kitchen. "The steak is leftovers, but the eggs are freshly made. And there's some fruit."

Leah didn't care if it was only a bowl of cereal; she appreciated the gesture. "I don't have to make anything," she said, stopping to take in the delicious scent. "That's good enough for me."

Jacob looked pleased. "Coffee or tea?" he asked as Leah pulled out two plates from the cabinet and set them on the counter closest to the stove. He glanced at her. "You don't have to—"

"Shut up," Leah said, talking over Jacob. She already knew what he was going to say, and damn it, getting the dishes was the least she could do. "And tea. I'm trying to limit my coffee-intake to only two cups a day."

"And how's that working?"

"As of a few minutes ago? Quite well—Green, please, with no sugar."

"Yes, ma'am."

"How much time do we have?"

"We have to be at work by 8:30. I managed to convince Paul to give us a late start because you did look dead to the world, but we still gotta clock in our eight hours."

"And then, afterward, I'm carrying my behind back to bed," Leah declared, already looking forward to the end of her shift. "You know what, give me coffee. I can already feel this is going to be a long morning."

"What happened to your pledge?" Jacob asked with a laugh. "I'll get you a cup before we roll into the office."

"With two shots of espressos?"

"Whatever you want."

"How much longer do you have to do this again? Until the Fall?" Leah asked, referring to Jacob's peace offering. "And don't think I've forgotten the numerous steak dinners you still owe me. Late nights at work can't be used as an excuse."

"Didn't think they would. But not tonight because you need your sleep."

"Damn straight." Leah picked up the plates, holding them up so Jacob could pile them up with food; as expected, his portion was twice as much as hers. She didn't know how he did it. Leah smiled up at him. "Thank you for this."

"No problem—Did you call Sue?"

"Yes," Leah said, rolling her eyes as she headed towards the small dining room table right outside of the kitchen. "I now have to make her dinner tonight due to my lack of communication." Looking back, Leah narrowed her eyes as Jacob laughed. "Oh, shut up."

Jacob tried in vain to stifle his chuckles. "I didn't say anything," he insisted, placing two mugs on the table.

The food was simple yet delicious. The tea, though lacking in the caffeine-arena, hit the right spot. Just what Leah needed. This was nice, sitting down, not thinking about much before she and Jacob would have to go back onto the road, solving crimes.

Leah looked up at her partner, ready to break the comfortable silence, but then froze as suddenly memories began to flood her mind—Last night. The shift. The failed attempt to hunt. The slabs of bear meat she had wolfed down… She remembered _everything_.

Once the shock wore off, she absently ate another piece of steak. She also remembered how she froze in the middle of the damn hunt, only left to watch as the rest of the pack took down the bears.

It didn't make sense—she had always been a fast learner, but apparently, not as a wolf. Damn it, it had been months since receiving the bite, and she still didn't know what the fuck she was doing. This wasn't supposed to happen, she was convinced despite Jacob's reassuring words. The way the whole process was shown on TV, written in books... she should've gotten her act together months ago. And now, couldn't even hunt right. What the fuck was the point of her phasing last night and actually _remembering_?

"Hey, no bending utensils," Jacob said with amusement as he sat back down at the table. "I had to pay for that shit."

Leah dropped the fork and knife, not realizing she was taking out her frustration on that poor piece of metal. She tried to play it off. "Yeah, what? Like twenty dollars?"

"Twenty dollars is still money. Got it on sale for _fifteen_," Jacob said with pride, but then his expression was washed with concern, "What are you worried about?"

Leah didn't want to say she was worried, just concerned. Or maybe that was the same thing. She took a long sip of her tea. "What's the point of going on a hunt, when you can't even _hunt_?"

Jacob drew his eyebrows together, confused until he wasn't. "Oh, Last night…" he trailed off and then shrugged. "You froze, and the bears noticed," he said. "You were second-guessing yourself." He shook his head. "Wasn't worth it."

"Wasn't worth what?"

Jacob set down his utensils. "_Leah_."

"You didn't let me try."

"You would've gotten hurt."

Leah reached for her drink, dissatisfied. That wasn't an excuse. She was a grown woman, damn it. "I've seen you guys hunt before," she pointed out. Many times. She was positive she had gotten the gist of it. "I kinda knew what to do—"

"You froze, and the bears noticed," Jacob reiterated. "I don't know what happened… maybe it's different because you're starting to be aware—" He shrugged before returning to his meal. "I guess there was some sort of disconnect."

Leah picked up a fork. "So," she started, pushing around some of the eggs on her plate. She took a bite. "All the times I've accompanied the pack on hunts for _nothing_?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, don't say that," he said. "You'll get used to it. You'll get it. I'll become second-nature to you. I promise."

"Yeah," Leah mumbled, taking another bite. "Can't even take down a small bear…"

Jacob placed his utensils aside yet again, took Leah's hand and squeezed it. "Oh, don't put yourself down like that. Bears are a bitch to take down. We outnumbered them, and they still gave us hell." He gave her a soft smile, letting Leah's hand go. "You'll learn."

Leah tried to match her partner's smile; she wanted to believe him. After all, this was a man who knew a helluva more things about being a wolf that she ever would. "Yeah."

The pair fell into silence as they continued consuming their breakfast. Jacob would be the one to break it. "So…" He looked up at Leah, giving her a toothy smile. "You remember last night?"

Leah nodded. Goodness, with all of this doom and gloom, she had forgotten about that monumental moment. "Clear as day," she said. "Or night."

"Before you know it, you won't even need the full moon to phase," Jacob said. "What was it like?"

Despite the mishap, being a wolf had been… Leah couldn't explain it, refreshing, simple, wonderful, peaceful? _Liberating_? She didn't want to get all philosophical, but it was like she was in another world, experiencing new senses, a new perspective. She was no longer inside a human body; she was a wolf, walking on fours with a tail—she could still feel the weight of it in her tailbone.

She wanted to try it again. Remember it again. And this time, she would have her act together. She could run with wolves, always had even when standing on only two feet. She knew the barking and howling practices, how to use her tail as a communication… but next time, she was going to bring down the pack's second dinner. Bank on it.

"_Snack_. We got lucky last night because bears aren't exactly lacking in the meat department, but generally, we only have a late-night snack."

"Bear is different," Leah said. It reminded her of venison, only sweeter. Somewhat tougher than beef and pork with less fat; at least, in her portion, that was. "I like it better than deer."

Jacob's grin widened. "Duly noted."

* * *

"You look like you need a strong cup of joe. Or three," Embry said to Leah as he flopped onto Jacob's desk, only getting away with it because the other detective wasn't around to scold him. But Jacob did end up noticing and sent the younger cop a mean look from the other side of the squad area where he was engaging in a conversation with Martinez. With a nervous laugh, Embry waved at the man. He then turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. "Long night?" he asked.

Leah glanced up from her computer screen. "Shut it before I make Jacob put you back on name-check-only duty."

Embry's usual smile instantly dropped. "You didn't have to go there," he said with a shudder. He placed a hand over his heart and declared, quite dramatically, "I'm only a concerned pack member, and you're threatening poor me."

Leah gave him an unimpressed look.

"But seriously," Embry said, dropping the pretense. "You good?"

"Do I look that bad?" Leah wondered. She took out her phone, using the dark screen as a mirror. She didn't look _that_ bad. Sure, she could have done something about her ponytail, but she looked professional. "I mean, I'm tired as hell, but either than that, I'm fine…"

The corner of Embry's mouth turned up into a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about last night," he said; he must have picked up on Leah's insecurity about her so-called "inability". Leah didn't know how to feel about that, but she was too tired to care. "It happened to all of us. You have to stop being in your head; it doesn't make life easier, trust me on this… So what, if you're not 100 percent in-tuned? You've survived this long; you must be doing _something_ right."

Leah couldn't believe she was receiving a pet talk from _this_ man. "What, by following you guys around?" she returned with a snort. "I literally _froze_, Embry, while the rest of you fetched me food like you're my damn servants."

"I mean, some people _are_ into that," Embry remarked in his usual amused voice, but then leaning forward, his eyes widened. "Wait—You remembered? _Holy shit_." He clapped. "That's great!"

Embry's outburst caused a few heads to turn, not exactly ideal, given the sensitive topic. Can you be even _louder_?" She chided, flashing a couple of coworkers a nervous smile. But then, her smile transformed into a wide, genuine one. "Thank you."

* * *

"They sure cleaned up this place," Leah remarked, walking through what was left of the Green Lawn Ditch Murders crime scene. From a distance, she could see the ditch, but a sheet no longer covered it. Thanks to the few days of rain, undoubtedly, what evidence left had been washed away. "Can't pick up anything."

It was disappointing and frustrating. Rain could do some serious damage, almost convincing Leah that visiting the patch of raggedy field was a complete waste of time. But she had to remind herself that a crime scene no matter how much it was tampered with, intentionally or not, still held clues.

"Unfortunately, the city got tired of all of the caution tape," Jacob said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Did you know this whole area was supposed to be housing complex?"

Leah nodded; she remembered reading about it in a newspaper some years back. "Yeah, to replace the shopping center," she said. "That explains the numerous ditches. They leveled the place, started digging, and then stopped. Abandoned ever since."

When they reached the infamous ditch, the detectives knelt along the perimeter and peered into the mound: nothing but mud, weeds, and insects. And sadly, not the ones that fed on decomposed remains.

Leah was the first to stand up. "No one knows what happened here," she said. Not even the gas station in the distance without a faulty security camera. The drop off had happened at night, which was even more than it was now in the middle of the morning. "Our best luck lies with finding a witness who was also the perp."

"Unfortunately," Jacob mumbled. "And we don't have any names of suspects just that they may have worked for the Velasquez and, or the Volturi. Not much."

"I think we'll have better luck at the factory," Leah told Jacob. "This place was only a dumping ground—" She stopped upon noticing the distressed and astonished look on her partner's face. "What is it?"

Jacob removed his sunglasses and sharply turned around, "Well, I'll be fucking damn," he breathed out, almost dropping the glasses as he stared into the distance. He didn't regard the look of confusion sent his way when Leah also turned around, curious, and surprised at what they saw. Jacob swallowed a couple of times and repeated, almost in a daze, "_Well, I'll be fucking damn_."

* * *

Leah wondered if she was hallucinating or inside an extremely realistic dream. It _had _to have been because what were the chances of seeing _him_ standing over the _same_ ditch that she and her partner had only been around several minutes before with his three of his goons standing a few feet away. Fully armed.

This was Collin. She had seen him once in person, but that had been years ago. He had been younger, more fresh-faced, had to have been, what? Twenty? A babyface hardened by that life. But now, he looked like a hardened veteran. Goodness—The leader noticed eventually noticed the detectives, and so did his goons. Nonetheless, Jacob advanced.

Leah followed close behind, hand ghosting the gun on her waist because she wasn't going to leave her partner alone. However, and she would definitely mention this later on, she had reservations about what was about to happen. Perhaps confronting a gang leader wasn't the wisest idea. Perhaps calling in backup would have been procedure, but as of right now, Collin and his friends weren't subjects of the investigation. There wasn't much the detectives could do without causing an unnecessary scene.

Ultimately, Leah kept her faith in her partner. Jacob knew Collin; he knew how he operated, and Leah trusted Jacob enough not to challenge him. She hoped her inaction didn't bite her in the ass.

Collin seemed surprised to see Jacob, but his expression was quickly replaced with a disinterested one. His henchmen had their sharp eyes on both detectives; all shapeshifters, Leah observed. The gang leader moved until he stood several feet away from his cousin. He didn't regard Leah, which was perfectly fine with her.

"Jacob."

"Collin," Jacob returned. He cleared his throat and then asked, "How are you?"

"I'm here," Collin said, scanning the other man head to toe, not knowing what to do with him, with this situation. "As you can see."

Leah looked between the cousins. She remained quiet, wondering if she was witnessing a simple investigation-related questioning and or family therapist-required confrontation. There was bad blood between the cousins, but not enough to resort to physical violence.

Jacob curtly nodded. "I see that," he said, shoving his hands into his pocket. He jerked his head in the direction of the ditch. "Interesting, isn't it?"

Collin sighed before waving at his guards, silently imploring them to back off. The goons did, eventually entering the SUV parked not far away; they might be of earshot, but they kept their attention on the detectives.

With his arms crossed, Collin stood one step closer to the dumping ground. He stared down at it, expression mixed with bewilderment and anger. "What happened?"

Jacob glanced at Leah, who shrugged; she was staying out of this, Jacob knew that. He nodded at her and returned his focus on his cousin. "We don't know," he admitted.

"You're lying."

Jacob shook his head. "I'm not," he insisted. "If we knew, there would be arrests." He gave his cousin a pointed look. "Did you hear about any?"

Collin gave his cousin a sharp look. "Don't get smart with me, Jacob?"

"Or else, what?"

Collin narrowed his eyes. "You're lucky—"

Jacob loudly snorted. "Don't give me that, Collin," he said, rolling his eyes. This must not be his first time being on the receiving end of the gang leader's threat. But Leah hoped Jacob's confidence wasn't solely based on the fact that he was related to Collin. Sometimes, especially when business was involved, blood didn't matter.

"About what happened, I'm wondering you know something about this," Jacob said, and before Collin could protest, he added, "We know about Eric, Robert, Ricky… and Garrett."

Collin raised an eyebrow, and then let out a humorless chuckle. "Of course, you do," he said. "Why do you care about what happened anyway? This has nothing to do with you."

"You're wrong about that," Jacob said, crossing his arms. "We're interested in what happened just as much as you do."

Collin wasn't convinced. "You, helping the Fangs?" He let out another strained laugh, shaking his head. "Since when?"

"A crime is a crime, no matter the victim," Jacob said. "I'm a homicide detective. Investigating murders is what I do."

Collin rolled his eyes at the comment. It probably wasn't the first time he had such words from his cousin. He was about to reply with a snarky remark, but instead, finally turned his attention to the woman standing next to Jacob. They locked eyes. Leah never cowered; Collin seemed to appreciate that. "I don't think we've met, Miss," he said. "You have nothing to say?"

Jacob glared at his cousin as if daring the man to make the wrong move. Collin noticed it, it was hard not to, but maintained his composure.

"Detective Clearwater," Leah said. She jerked her in Jacob's direction. "His partner, and to answer your question: it seems that you have some issues to settle," she added cool enough for both cousins to snort at the truth behind her words. "Didn't want to get involved."

Collin nodded. "Ah." He nodded again and turned to Jacob. "Ah, so this is the one Sean was talking about." He snorted. "I thought it would've been the wife. How is she, by the way?"

Leah glanced at Jacob. Right, Sean. That guy who called them both on this bond-mess.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Like you give a shit," he spat.

Leah raised an eyebrow.

Collins shrugged. "I didn't mind her," he said. "Thought I didn't appreciate her less than stellar response to learning about us." He looked at Leah. "Interesting."

"Leave her out of this," Jacob demanded.

"Then why is she here?"

Leah raised an eyebrow.

How dare—

"Why are _you_ here?" Jacob asked sharply, taking a step forward in the direction of the gang leader, but remained far enough not to create a problem. Leah glanced at the SUV; the guards had noticed the action. Jacob knew they had noticed. "How many goddamn times I told you not to step foot in this city?"

Collin slapped his chest a couple of times and stretched out his arms. "Arrest me, then."

Somehow, doing so would make things more complicated, and Jacob seemed to think that, too, "It's not worth the hassle," he said, and then added. "At least, not now."

Collin dropped his arms to his side. "At least, not now…" he repeated, trailing off as he crossed his arms. "What now?"

It wasn't clear if the question was meant to receive an answer, but either way, Jacob ended up answering, "You guys should've kept your asses in St. Louis."

Collin snorted. "Don't act like you give a damn."

"Of course, I give a damn," Jacob insisted. "If I hadn't, backup would've been here in minutes, hauling all of your asses into central booking. But I'm not doing that, am I?"

They could have, perhaps they should have. CPD had been looking into the gang for years, but right now, there wasn't a warrant for Collin's or his bodyguards' arrest, and they were technically St. Louis' problem—But timing was crucial. So were priorities, and at this time, the Fangs weren't on the Volutir's level when it came to wreaking havoc.

Collin took a step forward, glaring down at the ditch, "I want them _dead_," he said through gritted teeth as his hands tightened into fists. "I want them all dead. Every single goddamn member of the Volturi. _Dead_."

"Join the line with countless others," Jacob said. "What makes you sure about _they _were involved?"

Collin rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Jacob," he said, eyeing the man. He crossed his arms. "I know you've heard about what happened at Midway."

"Rumors, only, but thank you for the confirmation. We, at the police department, appreciate confirmation," Jacob said, enjoying the annoyed look on his cousin's face. Then the amusement dissipated. "Collin, you're many things, but dumb ain't one of them—Why the hell would you listen to _Eric_?"

Collin untangled his arms and then crossed them again. He seemed to wonder about his decision himself. "It'd have been good money."

Leah raised an eyebrow. _Would have been_? Did that mean Collin didn't have the money? Interesting.

"A fucking plane heist, though?" Jacob pressed on, shaking his head. "What made you think you could get away with this now, with all of that airport security?"

That was an excellent question. It wasn't the fifties, not even the seventies… but then again, the Volturi somehow managed to smuggle all of that contraband without getting caught, so maybe security wasn't as _strict_ as claimed.

"Who else is missing?" Jacob then asked, and when Collin gave him a puzzled look, he further clarified, "Eight people found dead. We have four ID'd. What about the others?"

"Like I'm telling _you_," Collin snapped as if personally offended that Jacob would ask him such a question. "Let _us_ handle _our_ business ourselves. We don't need CPD or the feds' help."

Jacob let out a sarcastic chuckle. "So, how do you plan on attacking the Volturi who are in another fucking country then?"

"That's not your concern."

"We beg to differ, Collin," Jacob contested. "You guys aren't the only ones after the Volturi."

"You're detectives, right?" Collin spat on the ground. "Then, detect shit."

Jacob didn't give up. "You can't take on the Volturi yourselves."

"Who are _you_ telling _me_ what the Fangs can or cannot do?"

Leah sighed. _Here we go_, she thought. Pride was something else.

"You have a band of what? Ten official members now? Maybe a handful of associates? They have hundreds with a shit ton of more money."

Leah jumped into the conversation. "Did you know the money belonged to the Volturi?"

"The money?"

"From the heist," Jacob clarified.

Collin frowned. "If we did, do you think we would've stolen it?"

Leah lifted an eyebrow. Was Collin implying that he would never mess with Volturi's goods? It made sense; it would've been too risky, but then why go along with Eric's plan? Unless Collin assumed the goods belonged to someone else.

"We don't know," Jacob said. "You tell us."

"As I said, I'm not telling you shit."

Jacob chuckled lightly, sarcastically. "You keep saying that yet you're talking," he pointed out.

Collin's eyes flashed with anger and frustration. "This conversation is over."

Jacob agreed, trying to keep the peace. He seemed satisfied, though, by the outcome, probably because Collin was letting them leave without any blowbacks. Not that Jacob seemed even concerned about that worst-possible outcome—Good for him, Leah thought. At least, one of them was that fearless.

She didn't dare look back as she and Jacob headed back to their car. There was nothing else look for at this crime scene, at least for now. It was fine. She didn't have to be around for Collin's henchmen to come out of the car once again. She was fine with walking away and entering the seemingly-safe confines of her car—

Jacob huffed, stopped in his tracks, and turned around to face Leah. He took a couple of steps towards her and placed both hands on her shoulders, peering down at her, bewildered. "Leah, _breathe_." He turned his head to the side and softly asked, "What are you worried about?"

Leah dropped her gaze. She wasn't much of a worrywart, not the one to fear something and express such, but there was something about those men. Weapons aside, they could phase in any second. They had experience in this shit. And what did she have? A standard-issued gun and a wolf that only made an appearance when it (she) felt like it.

She did also have Jacob, but he was _one_ other person. They would still be outnumbered until backup rolled in, which, given the remote location, would take about ten minutes to arrive, and that was being generous.

Leah deeply exhaled at Jacob's command, but it did not do anything to quell her nerves. She resisted the urge to look behind her. "Did you not see the henchmen? The guns?" She didn't understand how Jacob could be so calm, "One word and could've ordered my execution. Unlike you, I'm not his blood."

"This isn't the first time you've faced someone like him," Jacob pointed out, looking at his partner as if he was trying his darndest tot understand her, but couldn't. He shook her head and continue his trek to the car. "He wouldn't have," he softly added.

Leah let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Why wouldn't he?" she asked.

Jacob stopped for a moment and looked back, narrowing his eyes at the men standing in the distance. They were watching the detectives, as well. "Because he wouldn't have."

* * *

"Collin doesn't know as much as he lets on," Leah remarked as she buckled her seat belt. Several minutes had passed since she and Jacob left Collin at the crime scene unscathed and still as a free man.

Jacob did the same and started the car. His attention was solely on the sights outside of his window. Collin and his crew were still outside, huddling together before going their separate ways. Eventually, they were all return to the SUV. "I know," he said, adjusting the gear, but it was clear that he wouldn't move until the truck drove off. "That's a good thing. He can't make a move on that little information."

Leah leaned forward to get a good look at what Jacob was seeing. The truck was slowly making a right turn, in the direction of the main road leading out of the abandoned land. "That's why he's waiting," she said, sitting up in her seat. "Does he have someone in the inside? Someone who can slip him some case-related updates?"

"Yeah, in St. Louis."

"How do we get names?" Leah asked, once again, glancing out of the opposite window. The SUV sped off, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. "Wilson doesn't seem to know. Everyone on Martinez's payroll is playing dumb. The only thing I can think of bringing people in for questioning, but unless we're throwing the book at them, no one's going to talk—"

"Not all is lost," Jacob insisted, finally driving away from the crime scene.

"Did you not hear what Collin said?" Leah asked, shaking her head. She turned around to check through the rear window. No one was following them. Good. "He's not working with us."

"He's not?" Jacob questioned with a raised eyebrow as if he knew something Leah did not. "He's not talking because he has an image to upkeep, one that explicitly bans him from talking to us, under any circumstances. If he's pushed into a corner, then what can he do?"  
"Get out the corner?" Leah tried. She cleared her throat and added, "Do you honestly have faith that's going to happen?"

Jacob shrugged before making a right turn onto the main road. "Yeah, why not?"

* * *

"I'm getting sick and tired with all of this silence—I think it's time to bring some people out the woodworks. Get the media involved. All four confirmed victims, get their faces out there. Let everyone know they're dead. Someone's bound to make some noise."

Leah exchanged wary looks with Jacob and Martinez. "Are you sure you want to go down that road, Captain?" she asked. "Everyone's been hum about the murders for a reason."

"No one but us knows the circumstances," Paul maintained, maneuvering around his desk until he was behind his chair. He pulled it out and sat down. "No one but us knows none of them was human. This won't be the first time non-humans will be in the news; the general public just doesn't know that."

"What about the other unknown victims?" Jacob asked. He was just as apprehensive about Paul's plan as Leah.

"Mention them, too."

"The news of several people killed execution-style is going to make some noise," Martinez told Paul. "Like Leah said, are you sure you want to go down that road?"

"Certain people aren't going to like the publicity," Leah added, earning a nod of agreement from everyone sans Paul.

"Good," the captain said, delivering a firm hand to the desk. "Now, they'll see what happens when they don't want to cooperate. The only reason why we're going to the media is because getting information from those certain people is worse than pulling teeth."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "So, this is more to light a fire under their behinds?"

"We're killing multiple birds with one stone," Paul said. "But yes, it's essentially to light a fire under their behinds."

* * *

As fully expected, the media had a field day. Long gone was the wall-to-wall coverage about the Chicago Dahlia. That had been a year ago, and except for true crime enthusiasts and conspiracy theorists, that particular murder no longer gained much public interest— it had been that way for the past few months.

But now, the media had something to be obsessed over, besides the usual gang violence and general crime that had plagued the city for years—another multiple-homicide. Some thought it was the work of serial killers; most suspected it was a mob hit. After all, this was City; its citizens knew about the mob. But the point was, the Green Lawn Ditch murders was front-page news. Good for the press and the police. Bad for the Fangs, as explained during a tense meeting with the owner of a particular second-hand bookstore, three days after the news first hit the waves.

"Your people didn't have to put those murders on blast like that," Wilson told the detectives one night. He was visibly annoyed enough not to offer the detectives a drink. He looked tired, probably from the numerous phone conferences he had with his so-called former employer and coworkers. "A certain MC isn't too happy about the increased attention."

Yeah, Leah figured the Fangs weren't too thrilled, but honestly, they had no one to blame but themselves. Which was precisely what Jacob said in his response. "All we wanted was some names," he added, completely disregarding the older man's sharp look. "That was all."

Wilson snorted. "I gave you a name."

"Not _you_," Jacob stressed. "Them."

"What are they saying?" Leah asked Wilson.

"That Collin's been pushed into a corner."

"Then, our plan worked," Jacob said, showing no remorse for making his cousin's life more difficult. He almost seemed proud. "We're not asking for much, old man. Just the names of missing Fangs members. I don't even care about the Volturi's stolen goods. I'm glad they still haven't retrieved them. The less arsenal they have, the better."

"Just out curiosity," Leah then asked Wilson, "Where are the stolen goods?"

Wilson made a disbelieving noise. "I thought you didn't care."

"As I said, just out of curiosity," Leah replied, stealing Jacob a glance. Of course, they cared about the goods. The stolen goods were the center of this mess. "Something tells me Collin doesn't have them."

"Because he doesn't," Wilson said, adding a snort. "No one knows where the money and the bullets are. Ricky was allegedly trusted with the goods until it was a good time to come into the light—it was a safety precaution. Now, he's dead." He shook his head. "Not even his wife knows."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "You've talked to her?"

Wilson shook his head. "Not me."

"So, the Volturi may have the goods," Leah then concluded but wasn't entirely sure about the claim. They didn't see anything at Ricky's, but that didn't mean anything. But she wanted to hear what Wilson had to say on the matter. "They could've forced the information out of him because finishing the job."

"What do you think, old man?"

"I think the Volturi's looking for the goods just as hard as Collin," Wilson admitted with a frown.

"Names, Mr. Wilson?"

Wilson sighed. "I have to get permission from Collin to ask around."

Leah cocked her head. "I thought you don't work for anyone anymore?"

"No one truly leaves the game," Wilson replied, forlorn. There was a trace of regret in his voice. He might live a relatively-peaceful life, but he was still bound by obligation. "I don't mind giving you information, but I'd like to stay out of the crosshairs."

"Understood. But do you think with the media frenzy, your former employee will be convinced to somewhat work with us? We only want names."

"I'll let you know as soon as I find out."


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

* * *

"_No, I will not calm down_!"

Leah scoffed as her fingers rapidly moved around the keyboard. Though the commotion near the station's entrance sounded entertaining, she couldn't be distracted. Not when she had a report due by the next hour.

The argument continued, increasingly attracting the attention of more cops; most were amused, more than anything. Leah shook her head until her fingers came to a sudden stop.

_Wait._

She drew in a breath.

She recognized _that_ voice.

Leah turned her head, eyes widening as her suspicions were confirmed. There she was, the other woman in the Ricky Ricardo saga, Tia, going head-to-head with a patrol officer. More officers joined in to subdue the woman, but with no such luck.

_What the_—

Leah shot out of the chair. She grabbed a notepad and a pen before rushing towards the scene of the action.

"Don't!" she called out, catching her coworkers by surprise. Only one of them had their hands on the still struggling Tia, the arresting officer. "Don't book her yet," Leah implored, ignored the pleasantly surprised look on the other woman's face. "What's the issue?"

Most likely story: Tia did something she had no business doing, but Leah wanted to get some words out of the woman before she was booked in the system.

The cop didn't let go of Tia, but he did loosen his grip somewhat. He glanced at Tia, annoyed, and then at Leah. "She's disturbing the peace," he said in a sharp voice. "Came in here going on a tirade about how much she hates _men_."

Leah threaded a hand through her hair and sighed. Sounded about right. "Good morning," she then said to Tia. "So, we meet again."

Tia's face lit up. "Good morning," she greeted back, attempting to wave while in handcuffs. "And for the record, I did not go on a tirade. I know my tirades, and that wasn't one of them. I hate Vice, always giving me shit."

The cop rolled his eyes. "For the last time, this ain't _Vice_—"

Leah put up a hand, silencing the cop. She didn't want to be rude to her coworker, but no one wanted another altercation to break out, especially with Tia sporting a wide, shit-eating grin. Knowing that woman, she probably made a scene on purpose. "You can take them off," she told the man. "She's with me."

"_Clearwater_."

"She's with me," Leah repeated in a calm, unhurried voice. He should be grateful, her gaze told the cop, she was about to lower his blood pressure. "Don't worry about it, Esposito. I got her. You can take off the cuffs, and I'll handle the rest… including another arrest, if I had to," she added, giving Tia a pointed look.

Esposito wasn't too keen on the idea but ultimately followed through with the request. Tia eyed the man, amused, as he removed her restraints, and when she set free, she dramatically shook her hands. Before she could provide another remark, Leah informed her that their conversation was moving outside. Tia didn't complain.

Leah thanked Esposito once more and then took Tia outside, leading her to an area out of earshot of other cops but still on police grounds. "It would be in your best interests not to cause a scene when you enter a police station," she warned. She flipped through her notepad to an empty page. "What's up?"

Tia flashed the detective a bright smile before lighting up a cigarette. "I can't come here to say hi?" Her smile quickly dropped. "Okay. Fine… You know, I haven't had the easiest life or job. I've seen some shit, serious shit. But I gotta say, nothing tops being confronted by a boyfriend's wife and being told he's dead." She laughed it off when Leah's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, don't worry. I think we're friends now."

Leah ran the back of her hand across her forehead, relieved. This investigation didn't need any more relationship drama. "When did Maria tell you?" she asked.

"A few nights ago. I stopped by the place, looking for that sorry bastard, wanting to know what the hell was going on. I thought she was going to be out of the country for a while. That's what he told me."

"I think it's safe to say that he hasn't been honest with you."

"I know that," Tia said, frustrated. She then sucked her teeth, blinking away the barely-veiled hurt in her eyes. "And _then_, I checked out Instagram and saw that he was one of the victims of that murder out in Green Lawn." She swallowed, looking up at the detective, pleading for her to tell the truth. "It was hit, wasn't it?"

Leah cleared her throat. "We can't definitively—"

Tia brushed off the detective's words. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know how it goes." She took a long drag, cleared her throat, and asked, "Just bones?" She didn't wait for a response. "I knew another one shown on TV. Eric Stonehill."

Leah suppressed her excitement. Yes, _finally_. An Eric mention.

"You do?"

"Yeah, he used to come by Ricky's for poker night. What a guy. You know he wanted to be some rapper? Ha! He couldn't spit for shit."

Leah stifled a chuckle. "Any of his rhymes online?"

"Soundcloud." Tia snorted. "It's the only platform that would accept his so-called music. He was that bad. _Anyway_, yeah, he was there for those nights. A lot of money can be made and lost."

"Did he have any luck?"

Tia scoffed. "Fuck no."

Leah nodded as she jotted down the information. No luck meant Eric had lost money. Losing money would forever cause more problems. "When was the last time he attended the game?" she asked.

"A couple of weeks before Ricky disappeared. Or died, I guess. I usually participate, always as a dealer, but that night that sonuvabitch pushed me out the door, saying the game was private… Eric was there. His bodyguard. So were Tommy and that guy, Scarface?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. Gotta love a guy with a menacing nickname. "Scarface?"

"Apparently, he's obsessed with Tony Montana, even talks like him," Tia explained, somewhat amused. "Always got on Tommy's nerve—Tommy's Cuban. Tommy Mendoza or Mendez?" She waved it off. "Something like that."

"What about this Scarface-person?"

Tia gave a half-shrug. "Never cared enough to ask. He worked with Ricky. They all did—" She took a step forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I wanted to tell you this because I heard the news. Maria ain't gonna say shit to you, by the way. Not that I blame her. Her husband's name is all over the news. The moment whoever did this finds out…"

She ran a finger across her neck.

Leah gave a stiff nod. She didn't want _that_ to happen to Maria; the investigation was already dealing with enough before. She eyed the other woman, puzzled by her composure. "And you're not concerned, as well?"

Because she had been and was currently dropping some serious bombs—Something certain facets of society wouldn't appreciate and would have no problem stopping.

"I'm fine," Tia insisted with her nose high in the air. She was quite confident in her declaration. "If he had told me, I would've talked to my people and settle this thing. But no, what do _I_ know?" She gave a bitter laugh. "Well, for one thing, I'm still alive, and he's not."

* * *

"That was the lady who was giving Esposito a hard time?" Aisha asked, chuckling along with Jacob and Embry. "Poor guy. Did you know he was a traffic cop before Paul brought him along?" She shook her head. "The fool volunteered to be here."

Leah glanced at Esposito. He was currently at the fax machine, reading through an incoming fax, jumpy as ever. She had known the man before joining the unit, a real misfit allegedly incapable of directing downtown traffic. He was supposed to be in the Property Unit, as punishment for his last debacle, but he was here and seemingly thriving.

Apparently, Paul liked to collect misfit cops.

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me this isn't an entertaining unit," Jacob said with a wink, and then in a more serious voice, "So, Ricky's girlfriend, there's seem to be more to her than meets the eye."

"She's convinced that she could have resolved Ricky's problem if he had been honest with her," Leah said, skimming through her notes. Tia might be a character, but she had a plethora of information. Useful information. She just hoped Tia was as safe as she claimed; she'd late to lose her (like Riley). "She was very insistent about that."

Embry swiveled in his seat, finally facing the trio of detectives. "What does she do again?" he asked.

"Self-employed," Leah said, trying to be as modest as possible. Not that she needed to be shielded from sordid details. "She seeks affections from others for a fee and supposedly, an aspiring UV-dealer."

"Who's also not afraid of talking to the cops," Aisha added.

Jacob snorted. "Yeah, so was Lauren, then she got whacked."

"Yes, but Tia isn't Lauren," Leah argued. She might not know much about the woman, but Tia seemed to be significantly more street-smart than the deceased Lauren. But then again, many were. "I doubt she was bluffing."

"Anything from the wife?" Jacob asked.

"Maria fears for her life," Leah said. "Understandably so. We have enough people in witness protection, so using another route for more information would be preferable."

"Can she at least talk to us?"

"What about 'Maria fears for her life' don't you understand?" Leah said, admittedly harsher than intended. She didn't want to lash out at the younger cop; it was just everything about this investigation was so darn infuriating. She muttered an apology, and then added, "We don't need another dead witness."

"Leah's right," Aisha said. "Dead witnesses aren't' helpful in convictions, which is ultimately our goal." She turned to Leah. "Has Tia changed her mind about testifying?"

"Haven't asked her," Leah said, wishing she had done so earlier. But then again, Tia didn't seem like the kind to willingly testify during trial, where people could see her. Despite her insistence that she was safe, Tia would still want to be cautious. "I'll work on it," she then promised. "Her leads are strong."

"Ain't that the truth. She gave us two new people to like into: Tommy M-whatever and a guy named Scarface," Embry said, and then added with a snort, "Of course there's a guy named _Scarface_."

"Everyone needs a Scarface," Jacob joked briefly. He then sighed. "Alright, so according to Tia, Ricky occasionally hosted high-stakes poker games at his place. Eric generally attended said-games with his bodyguard with unknown others. However, we do know that Tommy Mendoza or Mendez and Scarface were present at the last one. Right?"

Leah nodded.

"I assume they had something pressing to discuss since Ricky kicked Tia out," Aisha said. Maybe the heist?"

"What do we have on Tommy?" Jacob asked.

"His last name is Mendez," Martinez said, joining the conversation at the right time. "A periodic member of the Fangs. From Houston but an Oak Park resident. Middle-aged, real quiet." He waved a lengthy rap sheet. "Also specialized in robberies, including one in Vegas. Last seen a week before the heist."

"Missing Persons' Report?" Aisha asked.

Martinez shook his head. "Would've brought on too much attention."

"So, his affiliations weren't a secret, then," Jacob surmised. He then took the pages out of Martinez's hand and skimmed through them. "It's a miracle he only served fifteen years... How do you only get five years for all of these robberies?"

"Good behavior?" Leah suggested.

"Either way," Martinez said. "It sounds like we got our Victim Number Five."

"And possibly, Victim Number Six," Aisha said. "That Scarface-fellow."

* * *

"I can't believe you agreed to it," Jacob laughed before shoving a forkful of steak and noodles into his mouth. He loudly swallowed food down, _still_ laughing. "Were you bribed? Did you lose a bet? Are you _in_ a bet?"

Leah rolled her eyes as she worked her chopsticks around her meal. Phở, she was convinced, a gift from the gods. Now, whether or not she was going to finish everything by the time her lunch break was over was another story. "Oh, shut up." She pointed a chopstick at her still laughing partner. "I'm never talking to you about my personal life ever again."

"Now, why would you make a promise you know you can't keep?" Jacob teased, and then said, trying to maintain a straight face, "I need a detailed, live account of this epic event. Emojis and all."

This was all her fault. She should've just kept her mouth shut and focus all her attention on the hot bowl of deliciousness in front of her.

Leah snorted. "Why, so you could share it with the rest of the pack?" She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

Jacob placed a hand over his heart. "Now, why would _I_ do such a thing?" he asked, dramatic. "Ride and die over here. I'm on _your_ side."

"Oh my god, I hate you," Leah said, fooling no one. "Keep this up, Black, and I'll inform Rachel and Rebecca about your sudden _desire_ to star in the Chicago, camera-less version for the Bachelor." Her mouth curved into a smirk. "With _multiple_ seasons."

"But why you gotta go there?" Jacob asked, voice filled with exaggerated disappointment. "I'm trying to support _you_. Make sure everything works out Friday night. Instead of a thank you, I get threats." He shook his head. "I expect better from you, Clearwater."

"That's _your_ fault," Leah said between bites. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm really doing this to get my mom off my back… and for the free dinner."

Jacob's whole face lit up. "Ha! I like the way you think."

"Free food is _very_ important."

"You know, if all you wanted was the free food, you could've asked me. Then, you wouldn't have to worry about the awkwardness, the failed attempts to be charming and funny… the boring, inevitable lolls. Plus, it's not the end of the summer yet, so I still owe you a handful of steaks."

"You're sweet."

Jacob chuckled and then asked, "Who's the lucky man?" When Leah pulled up the picture of said-man on her phone, he nodded, seemingly approving of Sue's choice. "Not ugly, there's nothing like a well-tailored suit."

"The son of my mom's friend's sister," Leah said, glancing at the photo before placing her phone aside. Jacob was right; the guy wasn't ugly. Attractive, even—she'd give her mother that. "He's an investment banker who probably makes like three times my salary." She leaned forward, dropping her voice, "Honestly, do you see _me_ with a banker?"

Jacob gave Leah a sharp look. "Don't you dare put yourself down like that," he said. "And he makes _three_ times your salary? Damn, can _I_ date him? I can make something work if he's willing to pay some bills." He quickly checked his phone. "Okay, let's see the average salary— Okay, that's _not_ three times."

Leah rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"So, with that salary, he's taking you to a nice place, right? I expect five-star cuisine, and nothing less."

"I'm meeting him at—" Leah stopped herself before it was too late. She pointed an accusatory finger at the man across from her. "_No_, I'm not telling you a damn thing. Because with my luck, you, the pack, and Aisha, _and_ Martinez and his wife would make a _surprise_ appearance. Who knows what Embry and Jared would do? Probably film the damn thing."

"Oh, come on, it's not like we're going to _crash_ your date," Jacob insisted, but nothing in his voice told Leah to take his word for it. "It's been a while since you took a dip in the dating pool. We just wanna make sure you're okay. That he's treating you right. That you're enjoying yourself…"

Leah narrowed her eyes. "So, you _are_ crashing it."

"That's not what I said."

"It's heavily implied."

"So, does that mean you're not going to live text your date?"

"If anything goes wrong, you'll be the first to know."

Jacob grinned. "That's all I needed to hear," he said. "Now, about that five-star restaurant…"

No matter how many times Jacob asked, Leah wasn't going to tell him the location. She'd tell Sue, for safety reasons, but no, certainly not the man in front of her—Leah shook her head again before slurping up some of the spiced-beef broth. "Personally, I'm not a fan of fancy restaurants," she said, putting down the bowl. "They keep too much on the food. I want a meal, damn it. Not an appetizer."

"You know where you need to go? A Brazilian steakhouse. _All you can eat meat_. A little on the pricy side, but damn, it's worth it."

"Now, I know where I'm taking you for your birthday. Thank you for making that decision easier." Leah's grin matched Jacob's. "Just don't embarrass me. I'll be a dinner or whatever, not some goddamn food-eating contest."

"Hey, I resent that!"

"You'll live," Leah mumbled, chewing on her noodles and vegetables. She washed them down with tea. "Seriously, what is up with you and the guys? It's like you all forget you have teeth while you're _inhaling_ your food."

"Okay, okay, don't need to exaggerate," Jacob said with a snort. "Like you're any better."

"I am because I know how to take _bites_," Leah clicked her teeth together for emphasis before chuckling that Jacob's unimpressed expression. She took another sip of her tea, and then asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious, "You think if I order, I don't know, two steaks, he'll be… weirded out?"

Jacob's face twisted in confusion. "Is that a serious question?" He then sighed. "If that's something you have to worry about, Clearwater, then he's not worth your time."

That wasn't the answer Leah wanted to yes. Her question was a simply yes-or-no one. "I'll have a snack before then," she said.

"You'll be fine," Jacob insisted, giving his partner a reassuring smile. "When is this epic moment happening?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Are you excited?"

Leah adverted her gaze. "I wouldn't say that…"

"Are you honestly doing this only for the free, potentially five-star-worthy, food?"

"Okay, now, you're making me sound shallow," Leah said. She wasn't, for the record. She liked the company, especially if the other person was physically appealing. The issue as that, "I'm not good at this first-date stuff. I was barely good at the romantic night outs while I was married. For eight _years_."

"To a cheating fool."

Leah sighed. "We didn't know that, then."

"Point." Jacob took a bite from his meal. "So, you're worried about messing it up?"

"I'm rusty as hell. I haven't been on a first date in more than a decade," Leah confessed. "Can you blame me?"

"No," Jacob said. He flashed her a lopsided grin. "But that's why you have to do the live chat. We can add Aisha, too, if you want. Always an insightful lady."

Leah narrowed her eyes. Jacob thought he was _so_ slick. "The answer is still no."

"Oh, come on—"

"_No_." Leah liked to think her sharp tone would tell Jacob that she wasn't fucking around. Sadly, the bemused expression on his face told her otherwise. Shaking her head (more fondly than she'd like to admit), she wiped off the remaining broth from her mouth and added, "Hurry up. We have Victim Number Five to investigate."

"Yes, ma'am, and I know just where to begin."

* * *

"You know a guy named Scarface?"

"Like Tony Montana? From the movie?" Sean joked. When he caught sight of Leah's unimpressed look and Jacob's sharp glare, the man's demeanor slightly changed. "Okay, what's with the mean looks? I thought we go way back?" The comment was more directed at Jacob, who still wouldn't relent. "I may know someone who goes by that name… but who the hell doesn't? It's the most cliched nickname out there."

Jacob's glare hardened even more. "You're wasting our time, Sean."

"No need to make things difficult," Leah said in a softer voice, trying to ease the tension between the two other men. She wondered if something had happened following their last meet-up. Jacob hadn't been nearly as annoyed with Sean as he was now. "It's a simple question, Sean."

The man looked from one detective to the other. He dropped his cool-guy act altogether. "If it's the Scarface I think you're talking about, we may have done some runs together," he said, quickly adding, "Back in the day. I'm not about that life anymore?"

"You aren't?" Jacob challenged.

Sean gulped and shook his head. "Got a daughter, remember? Not trying to go back to jail." He cleared his throat and checked his surroundings as if fearing someone would show up. The coast was clear. "I haven't seen him since… I don't know? A month…" he trailed off as his eyes widened. "Oh, fuck. He was one of them, ain't?" When the detectives didn't respond, Sean shook his head and began pacing around the abandoned ball-pen. "Oh, fuck. _Fuck_. I knew this was all a bad idea. But _no_, let's rob a damn plane, they said. It'd make us all rich, they said. What was the worst that could happen? _This shit_."

Leah and Jacob exchanged a look as Sean carried on, dropping knowledge that neither detective had expected. Leah was the one to stop the other man. "Wait, you knew about the heist?"

Sean cleared his throat. "I may know something."

Jacob took a step forward. "And you didn't tell us?"

"No one asked," Sean replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Last time you two came along, all you asked was for information about that lady found in the landfill. I don't believe in giving out more information than needed."

"And now?" Leah wondered.

"Money talks." Sean's mouth curved into a smirk. "As always."

Grumbling under his breath, Jacob handed Sean another twenty. "How did Eric about the Volturi cargo?" he asked.

Sean pocketed the money while keeping his wary eyes on Jacob. "You didn't hear this from me, but I've been asking around about what happened at Midway, especially after hearing about what happened to Ricky and Eric. Didn't want to caught empty-handed, you know."

Leah saw through the man's bullshit. "You wanted information to sell."

"And?" Sean shrugged. "Nothing in this world's free. Anyway, I heard that Gianna, you know what chick from the landfill, was strapped for cash. I mean, she'd give you anything for some dough, including important information."

"We know," Leah said, crossing her arms.

"But did you _know_ that she also indirectly worked with the Fangs for info?"

Leah lifted both eyebrows—No, she did not.

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"If the rumors are true, then Gianna had it coming. You can't double-cross the most powerful coven in this half of the world without facing the consequences—The Fangs knew about the air cargo because of her, including the ones leaving Midway."

"You're fucking with us," Jacob accused.

Sean's expression was stoned-face. "No, I'm not."

_Oh_, _boy_.

Leah took a step forward. "Are you telling us that the Fangs knew about the Midway cargo from weeks ago thanks to a woman who's been dead for the past _year-and-a-half_?"

"The cargo arrangements were made several months, even a couple of years, in advance," Sean explained. "You can't just arrange international transport of illegal goods in a week? That shit needs planning and a fuck-ton of deals."

* * *

"Gianna Castellano had a very busy tenure at Napolitano's," Paul remarked later that afternoon. "If the rumors are true. Are they true? How do we know this source isn't fucking around with us?"

"He seems to be afraid of Jacob," Leah replied, giving her partner a wry smirk. He'd deny it until the end of the time that he managed to inject the fear of God into the Fang-associate—She made a mental note to ask her partner about it.

"I didn't do anything, I swear," Jacob insisted. "The info he provided us last time was proven correct. He can be a flaky guy, so we're going to have to corroborate his story."

"What we need is a search warrant for Napolitano's," Leah followed. "Namely Gianna's computer. Get her emails, etcetera."

"Which, if the Volturi were smart, all should've been destroyed a long time ago," Paul said. "But it doesn't hurt to try. However, let's not be the ones requesting a warrant. Black, said Cicero's looking into the Castellano case, as well, right?" Jacob nodded. "Good, I'll reach out to the Chief and see if he can help us out. After all, Napolitano's is in their jurisdiction, not ours."

"Sounds like a plan," Leah said.

Jacob agreed.

"What about Victim Number Five?" Paul asked. "Or that Scarface-guy?"

"According to a source, Scarface's real name is Antonio Montoya," Jacob said. "Embry and Jared are looking into his background as we speak. But we do know he is a runner, employed to settle a debt with Collin."

"Was," Leah corrected. "The way Sean made it sound, he assumed Montoya was one of the ditch victims. Hadn't seen him in over a month."

Jacob cleared his throat. "Prospective Victim Number Six."

Paul nodded. "Two more to go."

* * *

**Author's Note: Unfortunately, I have not been able to keep up with my bi-monthly or so updates (I really was doing so well, sighs), and for that, I apologize. However, no matter how far in between these updates are, please be rest assured that this story will not be abandoned. **

**_Thank you for everything_, and I hope you and your loved ones are doing well during these tough times. **


	35. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

* * *

Friday night was decent.

That was what Leah was going to tell Jacob once he picked up the phone. Thankfully, she'd only have to wait a couple of rings. "Hello, my fellow partner-in-crime," she said into the phone as she examined one of her fingernails before carefully painting it; for the past few months, she had been practicing the art of nail polish application.

She was now at the competent-level.

Progress.

"Who died now?" he responded in lieu of a greeting, voice understandably groggy. "Did someone die? I bet someone died." He noisily sat up in his bed. "Damn it, why can't the dead be discovered during _normal_ hours?"

"Calm down, Black," Leah said, amused at her partner's dramatics. "No one died."

"Is this an emergency?"

"No emergency."

Jacob groaned. "Leah Clearwater, do you understand that it's _one_ in the morning?"

Leah glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. 12:58 am. _Fuck_, she hadn't realized it was so late. What had happened between 10:00 pm and now? Thank goodness, tomorrow was Saturday, and therefore, barring anything murder-related happening, she'd have the whole day to herself.

"Oh, shit. Didn't notice the time. Sorry about that," Leah said with sincerity, and then, "Hold up, _you_ said you wanted a full account of my night."

"Yeah, during the damn thing," Jacob pointed out, adding a yawn. He made no effort to end the phone call, though. "Why tell me this now? _Unless_…"

Leah could practically hear Jacob's smirk forming on the other line. She rolled her eyes as she painted her ring finger. How fitting. "I'm at my mother's house," she said. "Nothing happened."

"Verdict?"

Leah blew onto her newly-painted nails. Lavender—she was trying to do something different. Something that wasn't her usual neutral tones; Aisha and Anita, her go-to nail tech, would be proud. "Well, I'm currently painting my nails out of boredom, so…"

"Damn. Okay, tell me everything. First, more importantly, how was the food?"

"Wonderful. We dined at this great steakhouse on Grand," Leah said, smiling at the memory of that medium-rare steak, hot and juicy on the table in front of her. It was delicious, though she was pretty sure it would've been incredible if completely _raw_—she hadn't wanted to scare off her date.

Not that it mattered now, she realized.

"How was _he_?"

"He was…" Leah trailed off, trying to find the right words. Well, for one, she hadn't been catfished. The only difference between him in the photo and the person was the attire. "Nice."

"_Oh,_ _Lord_."

Okay, maybe that sounded bad.

"He was," Leah insisted, moving onto her middle finger. "It was just… there was nothing. No spark, no whatever… No _nothing_. It was like having a conversation with someone during a dinner party, just talking to pass the time. Not that he was boring or anything. He has an exciting life, but there was _nothing_."

"So, I'm guessing there's no second date?"

"He asked. I haven't responded yet." Leah stopped mid-stroke and swallowed. "Am I wrong for not responding?"

"When he did message you?"

"At midnight, I think."

"Congratulations, Leah," Jacob chuckled; it was music to Leah's ears. "You made his night memorable."

"Oh, go fuck yourself—How do I reject a second date without crushing his heart and sounding like an asshole?"

"Crushing? Look at you being a heartbreaker. Wait, you want _me_ to help you break up with your what-ever-he is? Is this where we at in our relationship?

"You know I'm not good at this shit. And you're a guy. How would you want to be told, I don't know, this isn't going to work without getting offended?"

"This isn't going to work?" Jacob offered, and then groaned once again, "One in the morning, Leah? It's _one_ in the morning."

"I know what time it is," Leah grumbled. She did feel bad, but she didn't want to hang up. "But I didn't want to wait until 7:00 am. That'd be inconsiderate. I don't want him to way that long. I don't want to ghost the guy—he was charming. What if he had hopes for something more? What if my late-rejection response ruins his day?"

Maybe she was being a bit dramatic.

But then again, it was past one in the morning, and she might be a bit tired.

"You think was _that_ into you? Damn, what did you cast some spell on him?"

"_Jacob_."

Jacob let out a theatrical huff. "Okay, fine." He was quiet for a moment. "Now, according to the experts on Google—"

"You _cannot_ be serious."

"Do you want my help or not?" Jacob didn't wait for an answer. "Okay, how about: You're awesome and deserve someone great. However, I don't think I'm that girl for you? Throw in: I know you'll find someone great?" He let out a laugh. "Oh, look, Cosmo has an entire series on this…"

Leah's eyes widened in horror. "_No_! No, don't you dare!"

She cursed when the bottle of nail polish tipped onto her carpeted floor. Thankfully, the liquid only made a small stain. She poured some nail polish remover and scrubbed out the spot with a paper towel with her unpolished hand.

"Pipe down, Clearwater, don't want to wake up your mother and little bro," Jacob scolded, adding a tsk. He was teasing her again. "Oh, come on, you don't want advice from the writers of the Pulitzer-acclaimed: _Size Matters: Do Women Care about Poop Size? It Turns out They Do_?"

Leah tossed the soiled tissue into the garbage can a few feet away from her.

"You read _Cosmo_?" The thought was horrifying. There had been a time when Leah was into the magazine… but that was years ago. She had been, like, fifteen and incredibly naïve. Most of those "sex-tips", she'd later find out, were complete bullshit. "I thought you were better than this, Black? I, for one, am extremely disappointed and will certainly inform your sisters and maybe the pack about this new, alarming development."

"For your information, _Clearwater_, I'm simply searching through the most ridiculous Cosmo headlines. How about this one: _Not Sure What to Get Him for Valentine's Day? How About a Chocolate Butthole_—Yo, there's an actual picture of a chocolate-butthole!"

Leah almost dropped the nail polish brush onto the same spot she had just cleaned. "_What_? That has to be fake."

"According to the article_, Top Ten Dumbest Things Cosmo Ever Published_, it real—Okay, in all seriousness: how about: I think we're better as friends? Or: I don't think we're a good match. Good luck with everything?"

"Alrighty, I'm texting him that right now…" Leah bit her lip as she quickly did what she had promised. "Now, being a guy, how would you feel if you receive this text?"

"Are we seriously psychoanalyzing a rejection text message? After _one_ date?" Jacob was probably running a hand down his face, his go-to gesture when he was frustrated. "God damn it, stop overthinking everything."

"I'm not overthinking—" Leah stopped and pressed the submit button before she second-guessed herself. "Okay, I sent it."

"Good. Now toss your phone aside and go to sleep."

Leah gasped as she heard a familiar beep coming from her phone, indicating she had received an alert. She quickly checked it and gasped, "He responded!"

"That quick?" Jacob groaned. "Why isn't _anyone_ sleeping at this time?"

"Aren't we usually running through a forest at this time, at least three times a week?" Leah remarked. She quickly read the text. "He said: I completely understand. Thank you for a wonderful time. I wish you well on your future endeavors…" She placed a hand over her heart, relieved. "Jacob Black, you're a motherfucking godsend."

"So, I've been told," Jacob said with a low chuckle. "That'll be one hundred bucks plus tip. Payments are accepted with cash, money order, check, or Cash App. You know what? Do Cash App; it's much more convenient."

Leah snorted. "Dude, all you're getting is a free breakfast sandwich and maybe a coffee on Monday," she said before adding, in a much softer voice, "Thanks for everything. You don't understand how much I appreciate your help in this dire matter."

"No problem, and yes, I fully expect breakfast on Monday. Now, for the love of everything holy, go to sleep."

Unfortunately for Leah, sleep couldn't come until her handiwork was dried. She blew on the nails on her right hand before moving to her left. The difficult task, due to her being a lefty. All she had to do was take her time.

"You got it."

* * *

"Antonio Montoya aka Monty Python aka Tony Montana aka Scarface," Jacob said Monday afternoon as he headed towards the middle of the squad space with Martinez in tow. They had both spent the past couple of hours following up on Fangs-related leads. Leah had stayed behind, working with Aisha and Embry on the information Tia had given her the previous week.

"And yes," Martinez added, laughing at Leah's, Aisha's and Embry's expressions. "At one time, he was called _Monty Python_. I appreciate the pop-culture reference."

Aisha shook her head. "These people and their nicknames."

"How does one go from Monty Python to _Scarface_?" Leah wondered. In terms of badass nicknames, that was a significant jump.

"Can we have nicknames?" Embry asked, sounding hopeful.

"We can have a naming ceremony once this investigation is over," Jacob said. No one knew if he were serious or not. He then pulled out a handful of pages from a folder and dropped them on Aisha's desk. "Eviction notice from earlier this month. Notification of phone service cancellation. A declined gym membership payment… all signs of Montoya not being around for quite a while."

Leah nodded. "So, he either dropped off the face of the earth or his bones were inside that ditch."

* * *

"We gotta get to the wife."

Paul's comment wasn't exactly what Leah could call profound. _Of course_, they had to get through Maria, Ricky's widow, but there was one problem, "She fears that talking to us will get her killed," Leah explained. "Disguise won't help her. These vampires, these shapeshifters, we remember scents. And I'm pretty whoever killed Ricky knows of her."

Jacob nodded in agreement.

"How is she still alive?" Paul wondered. "The Velasquez Cartel usually has a scorched-earth policy when it comes to people who screwed them over."

"Well, she was in the DR when everything went down," Leah offered.

"Surely, they knew that."

Leah shared a surprised glance with Jacob and then asked, leaning forward, "Are you implying…?"

"I'm not implying anything," Paul maintained, fooling no one. "Just find it interesting that she hasn't changed her routine. Had a couple of guys check her out—still living in the same apartment, still working at the same job. Same car. Same everything. If you were fearing for your life, would you be that comfortable?"

"So, either she was involved, knew about it or was paid off," Jacob said. He looked at his partner to the right. Leah had come to the same conclusion. "She wouldn't be the first person."

"Tia, you know the woman who was making a scene earlier, told me about Maria," Leah said.

"Is she reliable?"

"As reliable as one who doesn't want to serve time can be," Leah told her captain. "Her information checked out. Provided us with many leads. I wouldn't cut her loose yet."

"And she talked with Maria recently?"

"Yes."

"We'll use her, then," Paul decided.

"People are going to notice," Jacob argued. "Namely, the bad guys."

"I'm pretty sure they already have," Paul said. "Which is another thing: Tia has been blabbing her mouth as if she knows she can't be touched, and so far, she's been right. Why?"

"I'll look into it," Leah vowed.

She was wondering the same thing herself.

* * *

"Still roaming the streets, are we?"

Tia quickly turned around, adjusting her low-cut top as Leah drove up to the curb closet her. She looked at in both directions; the nearest working girl was several yards away, talking to a potential customer. Visibly satisfied, Tia sauntered towards the car. "Gotta make my money somehow," she said, leaning over the passenger side window. "What can I help you with?"

"Get in the car," Leah said, leaning across the seat to unlock and open the passenger door. She looked up at the woman expectantly. "I'd like to have some of your time."

Tia's smirk grew as she ran a hand along the top of the partially opened window. "Didn't know you were into the ladies." She chuckled. "My rate starts the moment I get into the car," she informed Leah before entering the vehicle.

"We'll see how it goes," Leah said, driving off.

The women ended up a secluded location, nearly a large alleyway. It was nighttime, chances of anyone else making an appearance was slow to none. She stole a glance at the unconcerned working woman as she pulled her car to a stop.

Leah turned off the engine and relaxed in her seat. She turned her attention to her passenger. Tia had her sights on Leah, smirking as she slowly lifted the hem of her tight shirt. Leah cleared her throat; the other woman was pretty, no doubt, but the detective wasn't here for that."

"Are you still in contact with Maria?"

Tia froze, then released the hold on her tank top. She blinked, taken aback by Leah's question. "So, this isn't a tumble in the car?"

Leah shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

Tia sighed and flopped against the passenger seat. She dug a cigarette out of her skirt pocket, lit it up, took a long drag. "Like I told you," she eventually said. "Maria's not gonna tell you guys a damn thing." She held her arm outside of the open and tapped her cigarette a couple of times before taking another drag. "She took of silence, and it doesn't look like she's breaking that anytime soon.

A vow of silence—Leah nodded. She figured that was the case. The first time she and Jacob had met Maria, she had been singing, but now… Yeah, she had been paid off. Or threatened. Or both. Most likely, both. "Can you talk to her?"

Tia snorted. "About what? Now, _I'm_ gonna look suspicious."

In all honestly, Tia looked suspicious the moment she had marched into the station the day before, fighting with a cop before spilling the beans to a detective outside at a very public location.

"Just a small conversation," Leah insisted. "Nothing major."

"What, while I wear a damn microphone?"

"I can make arrangements."

"_Ay,_ _Dios_."

"Is that a yes or a no?" Leah looked outside her window. She heard some movement, was ready to act until she realized it was just a raccoon trying to get inside the open dumpster. "I'm sure Maria knows a lot more than she's letting on."

"No shit."

"Well?"

"I'll have to think about it."

Leah nodded. It wasn't the answer she wanted, but then again, it wasn't a complete rejection of the offer. She'd take it for now. "Another thing: who's protecting you?"

Tia sputtered around her cigarette. "Excuse me?"

"You've been very coy during your cooperation with us. People usually wear disguises, meet in secluded locations, but not you," Leah explained, eyeing the other woman, looking for a nonverbal answer. She wouldn't get one. "So?"

"I've been doing this for a very long time, Detective," Tia said, voice full of pride. "I know these streets, these people. Good and bad. To answer your question, I'm damn good at what I do."

"And what _do_ you do?" Leah asked with a raised eyebrow. "Something tells me you're not just some streetwalking, aspiring arms dealer."

Tia let out a sharp laugh. "Now, what good would come out of telling you _all_ of my secrets?"

Leah drew in a breath and averted her gaze. A million thoughts ran through her head as she tried to maintain her composure. When she turned back around, Tia was looking in the other direction. Thank goodness, she wouldn't see Leah's perplexed expression quickly turn into one of realization and wonder.

The detective cleared her throat as she ran her hands along the steering wheel. "Not a damn thing," she said.

"Not a damn thing," Tia said. She watched as Leah pulled out a couple of bills from her wallet, and then offered the money, she put up a hand and shook her head. "Don't worry about it. You've earned yourself a free ride."

* * *

Leah rolled up all of the windows and checked the outside surroundings. No one was around within a quarter-mile radius. No other machine was around, not even the beep from a recorder or a wire. The coast was completely clear. Good. This was just what she needed.

Leah answered Jacob's question before the man even asked. "Tia's undercover," she whispered, not that it mattered. No one else could hear her.

Jacob drew in a breath; his response was understandably delayed as he processed the newest bombshell. He leaned closer to his partner, blinking a couple of times. "_Excuse_ _me_?"

"Tia, Ricky's girlfriend," Leah clarified. "I'm pretty sure she's working undercover."

"Like undercover_-_undercover? Like Ben?"

Leah shook her head. She hadn't, and probably would never, receive confirmation of her suspicions. But that last conversation with Tia from the previous night had her convinced. "Deeper," she speculated. "For one, she's not breaking character. Something tells me she's been doing this for a while. Years, maybe."

Jacob slowly nodded. "Which agency?"

"Don't know."

Jacob ran a hand down his face and let out a deep breath. "_Holy_ _shit_."

"Sentiments exactly."

"So, what do we now?"

"As far as she's concerned, all she's just a pros who fell in love with the wrong, married man and got busted for telling to sell an off-the-market bullet," Leah said, turning the key in the ignition. They had to leave. "It's been working well so far. Why change things now?"

"Don't see a reason," Jacob said. "This conversation never happened."

Leah adjusted the gear to drive, then checked her side and rear mirrors. "What conversation?" she replied before driving off.

* * *

"How did your date go? I recall you mentioning something about a date on Friday night?"

Leah took a sip of her latte. Double-shot, usually something she didn't take at 5:00 pm, but she had a long day and was fighting her fatigue. Thankfully, she'd be taking public transportation home and not driving. Or perhaps, she should just use Uber.

She took a couple of more sips until she remembered that Dr. Murad had asked her a question. She placed her cup aside. "It was fine," she said.

Murad raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"_Fine_," Leah stressed, crossing her arms. "What else do you want to me say? He was a nice guy. We dined at a fantastic restaurant."

Murad nodded. "I assume the date was one and done, then?"

"He was a nice guy."

"But not for you."

Leah dropped her gaze to her lap and sighed. "No."

She didn't know why she was so disappointed. She didn't even want to go on the date, only accepting to keep Sue off her back. Maybe she had some hope? Friday night was just so weird. It was as if she had to learn the dating, romance-process all over again.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Murad insisted; she must've sensed Leah's change in mood. "That's the beneficial thing about dating, I suppose, you can see what works and what does not—that's good that he was nice, though. How did you meet?"

Leah lifted her gaze and dropped her arms, finally relaxing on the couch. "We met Friday night. He was the son of a family friend's friend. My mom made some calls—you know, good old-fashioned match-making," she explained. "She thinks I'm lonely."

And Sue wanted grandkids.

"Are you?"

Leah didn't think so. She had her family, her friends, her pack. Goodness, it seemed that she had made more connections with people outside of work during these past eighteen months than she had in the past ten—that was what she told Murad.

Murad nodded, then asked, "Was this the first date your mother arranged that you accepted?"

"In history?"

"Since the divorce."

"Yes."

"What made you accept the offer this time?"

Leah bit her lip—she had to think about that. Leah had offers, even before her divorce was finalized. Turned down every, single one of them save for the last. Seconds passed, and Leah still couldn't think of an answer. "I honestly don't know," she said.

"Do you crave intimacy?"

Leah shrugged. "Don't we all?"

"Touché," Murad replied, crossing her legs. She folded her hands over a knee. "Though the definition of intimacy ranges from person to person… Have you made any other efforts?"

"Nothing too serious," Leah maintained. She wasn't looking for "serious"; she had been dealt with "serious" for almost ten years, and she needed a break. "I don't mind having some fun. Nothing too risky, of course. Something _not_ serious could work for now—" she stopped, then frowned. "I didn't answer your question, did I?"

Murad shook her head.

"The answer is, I have been," Leah said. "I mean, admittedly, I could've put in some effort, but with work and everything… it's so goddamn tiring. However, during the few times… you know, some months back, Jacob and I made this pact.

"Did you?"

"To be each other's wingman," Leah said, flashing back to that UNO card game from, she believed, February. One of the many times she had kicked her partner's ass in that game. "We've done it several times, just recently a couple of weeks ago. We've been successful until, you know, the most important part. But never can seal the deal—Wait, that's not true. Vegas happened."

"Vegas was a few months ago."

"Not a few years ago, though. I know, our sex-life is virtually non-existent, but that's not from trying. Well, at least on my part. Jacob's been evading dates like the goddamn plague since forever. I know because his sisters complain to me about it."

"You seemed concerned."

"He's my friend," Leah said. "Of course, I'm concerned. As the great Andy Bernard said_: I don't care if you're gay, straight engaged, whatever, a guy needs to get laid_." She could feel her face heating up from embarrassment. "Sorry, I've been on The Office-binge for the past week."

Murad gave an amused smile. "It's a very good show."

Leah matched the therapist's grin. "Isn't it?"

She had finished season five this past weekend. If everything worked out, she'd be done with season seven this weekend.

"In regards to Jacob, perhaps he prefers to be alone?"

"I know the man. Probably more than I should." Leah reached for her neglected caffeinated drink and downed half of it. It had lost most of its heat, sitting on the small table next to the couch, all alone. "That's not the case."

Murad shifted most of her weight onto her armrest and leaned back with a hand on her chin. She had her psycho-analyzing face on. This did not bode well for the other woman in the room. "Hm," the therapist said, nodding. "Interesting."

Leah frowned. She didn't like the look on the therapist's face or the tone in her voice. "What?"

Murad sat up straight in her chair and waved away any concerns. She then gave her client her patented, polite smile. "Nothing. I was only making an observation," she said before segueing into another, completely unrelated topic.

* * *

"I have something for you," Jane told the Leah the following morning as she leaned over the railing of a bridge overlooking a barely-lit suburban park. "You'll appreciate it," she said, taking a step back to pull out a large enveloped from her purse. She handed it over. "Look inside."

Leah opened the envelope and poured the contents onto the hood of her car. Photographs. About a dozen of them. All pictures of various men and a few women; none Leah could recognize at first glance.

"I assume they can subject of your investigation," Jane explained, catching sight of Leah's inquisitive expression. "Or rather, should be."

Leah sifted through the photos again. "Where did you get these from?" she asked. The photographs did not show anything glaring, like a clear indication of a crime. But they were _something,_ and at this point in the investigation, Leah would accept anything.

Jane's mouth twisted into a smirk. "It pays to have friends in high places."

Ain't that the truth.

"Members of the Volturi?"

Jane dropped her smirk. "Only one I recognize. The rest, I believe, is linked to the Velasquez Cartel," she said, walking away from the railing and to Leah's side. She peered at the photos. "All based in Washington State. Tacoma, to be more specific."

"They traveled all the way here for an execution?"

"People have done worse. I assume they were the ones handling the shipments from Washington to Chicago and then to Moldova. Maybe they all have gotten wind of the heist and decided to investigate themselves."

"Someone in Chicago opened their mouth."

"Checked the third photo," Jane suggested, pointing at said-picture. "That woman is a baggage handler for Midway Airport. Human, strangely enough, with ties to the Velasquez. I believe her the man claimed to be her brother is a high-ranking hitman."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Claimed to be?"

"He is a vampire from back in the 19th century. I hear he used to work with Jasper during the Sicario's time in Mexico," Jane explained. "For obvious reasons, he's currently known as the baggage handler's brother. His name Sancho Alvarez and her, Alicia Rivera."

Oh, Sancho Alvarez. Leah knew exactly who he was.

So did the feds.

But she had no idea that he was a vampire.

Leah gathered the photos and returned them into the envelope. "Thank you for this," she said. "We'll look into it."

"I am glad."

Silence fell between the two women as Leah tossed the envelope into the car via the driver's window. "Still mad at your former coven?" the detective eventually asked, stepping away from the vehicle.

"I am not upset," Jane insisted with a wave of her hand. "It is just business."

Leah wasn't convinced. "You basically gave me evidence of a conspiracy crossing state lines. I know you know what this now means," she said. "This can't only be about business."

Jane returned her usual spot on the bridge, resting her arms on the railing as she stared into the dark distance. "I was by his side for centuries, since the beginning. We have been through thick and thin, and now, I have to live the rest days without him," she said, dropping her head. "I could have ended it all, join him in the afterlife… but that would not be good enough. I will join him one day, but before then, I would like to settle some matters."

"You want to get even," Leah said. That was motive enough. People would spill secrets for far less. "They took something very important to you, and you want to do the same." She cocked her head. "But what are you accomplishing, in that sense, by doing all of this?"

Jane faced the detective. "Alec was my anchor," she responded, trying her best to mask the hurt in her voice, but it was evident enough. She knew it, Leah knew it. Jane cleared her throat as her expression quickly hardened. "Power is theirs."

* * *

"Congratulations. Your source quite literally delivered a goddamn treasure chest," Benjamin said with a wide grin, sitting on the hood of his car with said-treasure in his hands. He was impressed, just as much as of the detectives. "Pictures. Oh, I _love_ pictures. Pictures are evidence."

Leah diverted her attention from the sun, rising over the abandoned buildings of western Chicago. "Recognize any of them?" she asked, stifling a yawn. It was a little too early for police work, but 5:30 am was the only time the detectives could meet with the agent before he disappeared for the rest of the day.

Benjamin picked up the second photo, examined it. "Yeah." He then pointed at a man dressed in a _Miami Vice-_inspired all-white suit with aviators large enough to cover half of his face. "Can't see much, but I know that outfit and car from anywhere: Sancho Alvarez. A cartel hitman and a mean sonuvabitch. There's this joint federal task force dedicated to bringing this one in, but it's practically defunct. Unfortunately, we haven't been too lucky."

"Just federal?" Jacob asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Until right now, I thought he wanted to avoid the United States at all costs," Benjamin said with a frown. "But this photo was from this past February. See, there's an ad about Superbowl LII in the background—Which, on another note, have I ever mentioned how much I hate the Patriots?"

"Everyone outside of New England and isn't a bandwagon fan does," Jacob said, earning a chuckle from everyone.

Once the laughter died down, Leah asked Benjamin, "Is there an arrest warrant on him? Is that why he's been supposedly staying out of the US?"

"Yes." Benjamin picked up another photo and held it to the sky. "Oh, this one: Jackie Chan." He flicked the page a couple of times. "Not even kidding, that's his name. Hailing from Guangzhou, China, he came to the US on a student visa back in 2000, obviously overstayed." He showed the picture to the detectives. "I think he worked for Napolitano's for some time before dropping off the face of the earth in 2016… until this past February."

Leah locked eyes with Jacob, both saying the same thing: the plot had once again thickened, and Gianna's case might be back from life-support. Jacob would be the one to specifically ask the agent about it. "Napolitano's… Do you think Jackie knew Gianna Castellano?"

"It's quite possible," Ben said, rubbing his chin. "He disappeared around the end of 2016. From my recollection, Gianna was already working there."

"You're gonna need to call your friend in Cicero," Leah told her partner. "Again."

Jacob dropped his arms and nodded. "I'll give him a call this morning." He then asked the agent, "What did Chan do for a living?"

"Don't have anything concrete, but I believe he was involved in the transportation business. He handled a lot of high-end clients' trips around the world, all linked to Napolitano's. Now, I don't know if this does you any good, but his cousin is on the LaPush's board of directors— If there is someone who would organize the transport of contraband through legal means, it'd be him."

"Noted," Leah said. "But unfortunately, interstate matters are not in our jurisdiction."

Benjamin gathered all the photos and handed them back to Leah. "Well, it _is_ the Bureau's. I'd let them know about this if I were you," he suggested. "_After_ you make authenticated copies."

"We will," Jacob vowed, earning a nod from Leah. "Do you know if any of those people could've been involved in the Green Lawn murders?"

"Explicitly involved?" Leah added.

Benjamin wasn't entirely sure. "I doubt Chan was there," he said. "He's a bit on the squeamish side, which should have been a dealbreaker for the working for anything Volturi-related." He shook his head. "The rest, I can't definitively say, but Sancho _is_ a Sicario." He bit his bottom lip and then sighed. "Like I said: he's a _mean_ sonuvabitch."

"Felix-mean?" Jacob asked. Felix, the main hitman for the Volturi, had a reputation that made even the most hardened criminals tremble. Fortunately for everyone, Felix was incarcerated at Alcatraz.

"Meaner," Benjamin said with a shudder. "That man would kill a kid without a second thought. Damn, he even did a hit on his own brother and family. All for the money." He shook his head. "Nothing but a menace to this world… So, arranging the execution of eight people and then dumping their bones? Completely possible."

"Another psycho." Leah ran a hand down her face. "_Yay_."

"What does this, any of this, have to do with the Volturi?" Jacob asked the agent. "What's the link between the cartel and the coven?"

"The Velasquez may appear like they've been entirely loyal to the Olympic coven, but none of that matters if there's money to be made," Benjamin said. "I know Sancho's been involved in Olympic-linked assassinations before. No one knew about it—" He cleared his throat. "I'd use that information wisely, and preferably not mention that to the media or have it on any official documents."

Meaning Benjamin wasn't supposed to say anything.

"Don't worry about a thing," Leah assured the agent. "And thank you for everything, as always. Keep us posted if your people have more information on these pieces of work?"

"Don't have to tell me," Benjamin said. "Ya Allah, just when I thought we've got a handle on this mess…" he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. He let out a before telling the detectives, "Stay strong, the both of you. I have a feeling we're about to embark on yet another crazy ride."

Leah had a bad feeling, as well. "You, as well."

Jacob exchanged a fist bump with the agent. "Good luck, man."


	36. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

* * *

"Don't you simply love the feeling of the summer sun on your skin? Especially on a day like this? So peaceful, so warm. Don't have to worry about a damn thing until the day after tomorrow—This, my friends, is my kind of relaxation."

Leah adjusted her sunglasses, further blocking the sun's rays from her eyes. She had a bright smile on her face. "It is nice," she remarked. "And the burn. I _love_ the burn. And the tans. Nothing like a good tan."

It was a particularly hot July Saturday, perfect for a trip to the lakeshore. Leah was laid out on her beach towel, resting her head on her folded hands. To her right was Aisha, lying on her stomach, also seeking a nice tan. To her left was Bella, sitting up with her legs folded pretzel-style, digging into her bag for her prized sunblock lotion.

"Speak for yourselves. SPF-50 for me or else I turn into a painful tomato with peeling skin. _Everywhere_."

Aisha turned her head in Bella's direction. "You're not _that_ pale," she argued with a chuckle.

"I'm pale enough," Bella returned, squeezing the sunblock into the palm of her hands. She honestly didn't need any more; she had slathered enough of it less than an hour ago. "I would get SPF-75, but I feel like some Vitamin D would do me some good."

Aisha lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "_Would it_?"

Leah snorted.

"Of course," Bella said, not catching onto Aisha's sly comment. "It's great for your immunity…" she then trailed off, face flushed. "Wow, you _literally_ have the imagination of a fifteen-year-old boy, and you're supposed to be one of Chicago's Finest—Leah, stop laughing."

Leah tried her best but to no avail.

Bella rolled her eyes as she smoothed some lotion on her arms. "You two are horrible. I can't believe I call you, two, my friends."

"It's just _too_ easy," Aisha teased.

"_Anyway_." Bella tossed the bottle into her bag and finally laid down. "Miami. Labor Day Weekend. Are we doing this?"

"Weren't you just complaining about the sun?"

"But it's _Miami_," Bella stressed, giving Leah a bright smile. "There are more things to do there besides going to the beach. There's Little Haiti, Little Havana, and maybe we can go the Keys."

"Oh, I'm _so_ down," Aisha said with a loud clap. "I need a vacation like you wouldn't believe. Problem: can this city handle all of us gone at the same time?"

"I appreciate how important you think we are," Leah remarked.

"I'm not being funny. If you haven't noticed, this city's been, as my 10-year-old niece would say, _lit_ since last January."

"Point."

"CPD will be fine," Bella insisted with a dismissive wave. "The Office of the Medical Examiner will be fine."

"For how many days, Bella?" Leah asked. Miami did sound nice, even if she had been there plenty of times before. The last time she visited, she was spending a romantic anniversary weekend with her then-husband. She wouldn't mind replacing that moment with something much more pleasant. With people who had never crushed her heart.

Bella slightly sat up, leaning back on her elbows. "Labor Day Weekend and return on Labor Day."

Leah nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Two vacations, Leah?" Aisha asked. "You sure Paul's going to sign off on that?"

"LA isn't until October," Leah said with a smirk. She breathed in the warm, lake-side air; she could stay on this shore forever. "He'll live."

Bella perked up. "Since when are you going to LA? _I_ want to go to LA."

"Well, you can't go on this one, Bella," Aisha said before Leah could say anything. She had a mischievous glint in her eye that only Leah, thank goodness, could see. "Leah's going with only a plus-one, a spot currently taken by her new Travel Buddy."

"Ah, yes, of course, can't mess that up."

Leah gave her friends a dirty look. They thought they were slick. "_Shut up_."

Aisha and Bella laughed.

* * *

"I got a present for you," Embry announced in a sweet-song voice that reminded Leah of a way-too-happy Disney Princess (or prince). Much to Jacob's annoyance, the aspiring detective pushed aside the actual detectives across the desk and sat down on the cleared spot. He had a large envelope in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. "I'm telling you, I may get a promotion out of this."

Leah rubbed her hands together in anticipation while Jacob casted an unimpressed look onto Embry. "This better be good," he said.

In lieu of a response, Embry dropped the contents of the envelope onto the desk—it was Nokia. An old-school flip phone. Black in color and without any juice. When the detectives gave him a curious look, Embry explained, "Gianna Castellano's mother stopped by earlier, in disguise, of obvious reasons, and delivered this wonderful thing." He pointed at the device. "She found inside her daughter's old closet. Apparently, the mother's planning on moving Nebraska next month. Where life is simpler. Which I definitely get, because _damn_—"

"Shut up," Leah demanded, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Is that a _burner_?"

Embry's grin grew even wider if that was possible. "Sure looks like one, doesn't it?"

The detectives faced each other, expression both full of amazement and excitement. Jacob then looked down at the phone on his table. "Where was this found?"

"Like I said, inside Gianna's old closet. I think the mom found in an old box hidden inside the floor. So, my guess…"

"Gianna was hiding it," Leah concluded. "So, it _is_ a burner phone."

"But aren't burner phones supposed to be used and disposed of," Jacob pointed out. "Why would Gianna keep the phone there?"

"Who's going to check there beside her mom, who's about to move out?" Embry shrugged. "And this can still be considered a burner phone. Maybe Gianna was keeping it for a reason? Either way, the phone barely had any juice when Mrs. Castellano dropped it off, but I managed to the phone number before it died—the phone's _so_ out of date that no one sells its charger anymore."

"Run the number," Leah requested. "And see if we can get some phone records."

"Already did. Should get a response by the end of the week, the latest." Then Embry smirked. The turnaround time was shorter than usual. "I know a lady."

Jacob leaned back in his seat and chuckled, "Does your girlfriend know about this lady?"

Leah bit back a laugh from Embry's flailing. "Now, why you gotta do that?" Embry demanded as Jacob still chuckled. "You know it's not like that. I'm a _changed_ man. See, I have something good going on, and now, you're trying to get me in trouble." He shook his head. "Some alpha, you are…"

Jacob couldn't stop laughing, not even when Leah shot him a look of disapproval. Rolling her eyes, she turned to the younger cop and smiled at him, "Thank you, Embry," she said softly. "And I hope you get a promotion someday. Ignore Jacob. He can be mature for so long."

Jacob drew in a sharp breath. "_Seriously_?"

Leah shrugged.

"You're welcome, Detective Clearwater," Embry said, giving Jacob a smug look. He slid off the detective's desk. "At least someone appreciates my work." He then plucked a tissue from the tissue box on Leah's desk and used the napkin to transferred the phone back into the envelope. He sealed it closed. "Gotta drop this off at Evidence. Let you know if anything comes up."

"Thanks, man," Jacob called out, dropping the taunting act, as he and Leah watched Embry leave. "Really appreciated it!"

Embry turned around and, with a wide grin, put two thumbs up.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Leah and Jacob traveled to Cicero, a suburb of Chicago and the location of the infamous Napolitano's. They were to meet Jacob's police contact and longtime friend, Detective Milano, at a local diner where, according to said-friend, had "the best damn pies in the best damn state". Leah, being an avid pie-lover herself, was excited about the prospect.

And of course, any information Milano had to provide.

"I don't understand, Black. You used to be better than this. You used to understand when someone gives you a specific time, you arrive five minutes early. How are you _this_ late? We agreed to half-past two; it's now seven to three… Is this how you folks in the big city _operate_?"

Leah lowly chuckled at Milano's attempts to express his disappointment. Jacob gave the man on the other side the finger before sliding into the booth, leaving room for his highly amused partner. "There was a major accident on 290," he snarked. "What the hell did you expect me to do? Drive along the shoulder _the entire time_?"

Milano shrugged as he cut himself a piece of his cherry pie. "You could've," he replied with a smirk and then turned his attention to Leah. "I don't think we've ever met." He held out his free hand. "Detective Sal Milano of Cicero PD."

Leah shook the detective's hand. "Detective Leah Clearwater of Chicago PD." She jerked her head in Jacob's direction. "His partner."

Milano grinned. "Leah Clearwater, finally nice to meet you in person." He nodded. "Jacob talks about you _all the time_: gushes about how wonderful of a detective you are, how lucky he is to have a partner like you…"

Jacob grunted. "Oh, shut the hell up."

Leah and Milano shared a look and then laughed.

"No, no, keep on going," Leah insisted, flashing her partner a grin. Despite his tough-guy act, he was clearly embarrassed. "I didn't think you thought so highly of me, Black?" She put a hand to her chest. "I'll cherish this moment forever."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Can we just get work?"

"Aren't you a little testy today?"Milano laughed. "Detective Clearwater, tell me you're not a pie-hater like your partner over here."

"Of course not." Leah folded her hands over the heart. "I _love_ pies. Blueberry pie, peach pie, key lime pie, sweet potato pie…"

Milano dropped his fork and clapped. "Good. I'm telling you, this place has best damn pies in the _damn state_." He then called over a waitress from the booth behind him. "Dolly, get this lovely lady a slice of peach pie… And for my friend, yeah, the grumpy one, get him a slice of carrot cake. Be generous with the whipped cream. And a round of coffee."

Dolly quickly wrote down the order. "You got it, Sal," she said with a nod. "Be back in a few."

"I hope you know you're buying," Jacob said the moment Dolly left. Despite his so-called grumpy demeanor, his eyes displayed something else entirely different. He was just messing around the other detective. "You owe me."

Milano shrugged off Jacob's comment and turned to Leah. "Is he always like this?"

Leah couldn't fight her grin. "Sometimes."

Teasing Jacob had its advantages, including giving them ample opportunity to joke around on the job.

Jacob tossed up his hands. "Are you two seriously ganging up on me?"

"I just answer a question, Black," Leah snarked. "No need to get so testy."

Jacob sent Leah a sharp look.

Leah just shrugged, which seemed to egg on Milano even more. "I like her," he said. "She's just as immune to your death glares as I am—And about what I supposedly _owe_ you: I'm about to give you some damn good info. Trust me, I won't have to owe you a damn thing after this conversation."

_Yes_, that was precisely what Leah wanted to hear.

Jacob finally relaxed in his seat, dropping his annoyed-act. "So, what's up?"

Milano glanced up as he cut another piece of the dessert. "For one, you and your colleagues opened a goddamn can of radioactive worms…" He trailed off as Dolly delivered their orders. After thanking the waitress and waiting for her to retreat to a safe distance, he carried on, "Your city isn't the place affected by this mess." He shook his head. "All because of _one_ murder."

"That's all it takes, sometimes," Jacob said, adding cream and sugar into his drink. "You should've been at the scene. One look and you knew that case wasn't gonna end anytime soon."

Milano snorted. "I'm glad I _wasn't_ there."

"What is your leadership saying about this case?" Leah wondered.

"Keep everything quiet," Milano said. He took another bite of his dessert. "They're not shutting down anything, but they don't want the noise. We've tried going after Napolitano's in the past, always fell through. I can't even tell you how many times we've been threatened with a lawsuit by the owners."

Leah nodded along with her partner. She knew from experience how lawsuits could hinder an investigation. "At least, they're not scrapping the whole thing," she remarked. "And I think it's wise to lay low on your part. It's getting crazy back at home."

Milano nodded. "Crazy than usual?" he joked, and then sighed, "Napolitano's been in this town since the Capone days. The owners, even before Illinois became a state, traveled up from New Orleans into this place… They have a solid foundation in this place, and it won't crumble unless on their own terms."

"When do you think that's gonna happen?" Jacob asked.

"Sooner than you think," Milano said. "They're moving."

"Where?" Leah asked before consuming a piece of her own pie. Milano wasn't kidding; this was _good_.

"Setting up operations in Tacoma, Washington. I think the heat's getting to them."

"When are they closing shop?" Jacob asked.

"By October. Interestingly enough, their building hasn't been placed on the market; if they're planning on selling it, they need to do it soon. We also think they're going to try to level the place. I mean, they can. That's their land."

Jacob ran a hand down his face. "_Shit_."

"Also, word of advice: you'd want to snatch those guys up before they head out west," Milano said. "I heard through the grapevine that they have a lot of politicians and police departments in their pockets. Even the Bureau's having a tough time out there."

"Still causing havoc," Leah mumbled. "All the way from across the pond…"

"Checked up on Jackie Chan." Milano pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper and handed it over to Jacob. "There's not much on him. Everything we found stops a few years ago. It's like he dropped off the place of the planet after October 2016."

"But he didn't," Jacob said, skimming the page. He then handed it over to his partner. "He's ID'd in a picture from this past February."

"This says he worked as an assistant manager to a gas station," Leah said. "He didn't work at Napolitano's?"

Milano shrugged. "It's possible to do both," he said. "We've known of many who got paid under the table, but…" He cleared his throat and leaned over the table, dropping his voice. "We've tried to subpoena the firm's books, but the judge wouldn't accept it. We've tried nearly everything, but, what could one expect from a friend of Sorio?"

Leah and Jacob shared a look.

"Oh, boy," Leah said.

"Yeah, I know." Milano sighed, retreating into an upright position. "Our hands are even more tied than yours. The investigation into Gianna's disappearance, according to the police chief, is nothing more than a side project. Thankfully, I don't have much else going on, so…"

"Thanks, man," Jacob said. "So, you can't get into Napolitano's at all?"

Milano shook his head. "Not anymore. After we've executed a subpoena for the firm's electronics, the owners pitched the biggest fit I've ever seen. Unlawful search and seizure, that was their claim. I'm talking about the Fourth Amendment. They were about to take it up with the feds."

"It's called probable cause," Leah remarked.

Milano snorted. "Do you know how much they pay their lawyers?"

Leah cleared her throat before taking a sip out of her coffee. She didn't need to answer Milano's question. The more money one had, the more infuriating their defense attorney was.

"Who _are_ these owners?" Jacob asked.

"Unofficially or officially."

Jacob smirked. "You know we _love_ the unofficial story."

Milano blew out a long breath as he looked around the diner. No one was paying attention to the detectives, thanks to a sensational news story being presented on the television hanging above the counter. "The mafia," he said in the lowest voice possible. "Like the _actual_ mafia with direct ties to Sicily and Volterra."

Leah and Jacob nodded at each other.

_The Volturi_.

"The official?" Leah asked.

"The name on the deed is Vannozza Lombardi," Milano said. "Not much from her either besides being a former housewife and back in the '80s, her entire family—husband and three kids—died in this terrible accident off the coast of Corsica. She's currently in a special care home down in Florida. Eighty-seven and suffers from Alzheimer's."

"Is there any link to the mafia?"

"Not that I can find. We did checks on everyone," Milano said. "Now, the power of attorney for Mrs. Lombardi is interesting. We don't know who that person is. Not even the court."

"How the fuck is that possible?"

"Black, I can't even tell you the amount of shit that goes around here. First power of attorney was someone you knew very well, Demetri Karlov. But as you know, he got killed. No, sorry, _completed suicide_. Second power of attorney was Giuseppe Lorenzo; died from a heart attack in December; everyone but the coroner knows it was poison. The current power of attorney is Marco Romano—"

"That's a name," Leah remarked, giving the other detectives a pointed look.

"Yeah, the problem is that it's mostly a fraudulent one," Milano said. "Got a tip on that from a source."

Jacob frowned. "Don't people worry about perjury?"

"You'd like to think, but money and complacency talk," Milano replied, before quickly adding, "But, don't fret, my friends, I have something up my sleeve so if everything works out, by next month, I should have an official name."

"Is this all you had to tell us?" Jacob asked.

Milano shook his head. He finished the last of his dessert, washed it down with some black coffee, and said, "I don't like to blame the victim, but Gianna was a goddamn fool. I found out from a source that she double-crossed not one gang, but two. At the same time. While trying to establish her own version of a Silk Road."

"And how is that?"

"By doing so the old-fashioned way. Create a trucking company and using it as a front for illegal activity… Something about the light?" Milano shook his head. "She also used to mess around with Mr. I-Committed-Suicide—it wasn't a love-thing. It was a power move, trying to move up top."

"She thought that sleeping her way up the ladder was going to work?"

"It's happened before," Leah remarked. "Many times before."

"But she was an outsider," Milano pointed out. "No matter how much 'sleeping around' there was, she was not going to be on top."

Jacob leaned forward. "About this trucking company…"

"Gianna was reportedly very interested in the transport-aspect of Napolitano's—a firm that no one knows what it specializes in. On the website, it's an accounting firm. But in reality… no one really knows. Even when we executed our first warrant, we couldn't figure it out. Anyway, she was involved in shipping and was pretty damn good at it… that's where she got in trouble."

"Selling trade secrets," Jacob deduced.

"I heard she was in cahoots with your Dahlia."

"Yeah," Leah confirmed. "But we don't have proof."

Milano nodded. "You know, Gianna's final resting place used to confuse the hell out of me. I mean, if you want to get rid of someone, just dump 'em in the lake," he said. "Why a landfill? Where anyone can find her…eventually? What message are they sending?" He snapped his fingers. "And then I remembered: The Cullen family used to own land; sold it to the city back in the fifties. That family was always butting heads with the mob."

"We have reasons to believe that Gianna was killed the same night as Jessica Stanley, a known mistress of the late Carlisle Cullen," Leah said. "She was there. She saw the whole thing, the moment Jessica _died_. What happened after that, we have no idea."

"I can't tell you either," Milano said with a sigh. "And without getting into that place… We even reached out to a service provider about her emails. Nothing inflammatory."

"She was smart."

"Obviously not smart enough if she was stuffed into a garbage bag." Leah slid a piece of the delectable pie into her mouth. "Why did they find out?" she spoke while chewing. "Who talked?"

Milano cleared his throat. "Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, but have you thought of Jessica Stanley being the rat? I mean, to watch someone die like that? That takes a lot of hatred. Or psychopathy. Or both."

Jacob and Leah exchanged an incredulous look before Jacob asked the same question that entered Leah's mind, "You think Gianna _knew_?"

Milano shrugged with both hands up. "I think she may have gone along with her boy-toy's plan to get her back into his and his mob family's good graces… But as I said, I had a long day, and I may be talking out of my ass."

Leah didn't think he was.

* * *

"I thought the Dahlia's case was closed?" Martinez asked, watching Leah as she connected onto the investigative board a fabric string from Gianna's picture to Jessica's.

"It was never _closed_," Leah maintained, taking a step back. Damn, they needed a bigger standing corkboard. "Just put on hold for the foreseeable future." She turned to her partner, who was sitting on the edge of a desk behind her. "I think your friend from Cicero PD may be onto something."

Jacob nodded. "It would explain Gianna's interesting demeanor in that hidden video your favorite source gave us," he said. "She was so smug about everything, near to the point of excitement… until the very end."

"Are you implying that she _wanted_ Jessica to die?" Martinez carefully asked. "Also, have we established what exactly _happened_ after Jessica received the lethal bite? How on earth did she end up chopped up?"

"No, we have not," Leah said, turning around so that her back was facing the board. She shoved her hands into her pockets before moving to sit next to Jacob. "We could say Demetri did it, but the work is too difficult to be done by one person in such a short amount of time. Others had to be involved."

"The same people who dropped Gianna off at her resting place?" Embry asked.

Jacob shook his head. "Nah. They only deposit trash, fully prepped. Not this."

Leah grimaced at her partner's choice words. The statement wasn't intentionally malicious, but… she didn't know. The thought of comparing Gianna to actual trash, fully prepped? Despite her killers' feelings, Gianna was still a human being. She had been someone's friend, someone's child… a loved one. Not _trash_.

"What if…" Leah spoke up after pondering for several seconds as her partner and the other detective tossed around ideas. "What if the _same_ people who made that display of bones in Green Lawn was also involved in Jessica's mutilation? Maria's band of sicarios?"

Jacob cocked his head to the side as he stared at the investigation board. "Like Ben had said," he eventually said. "Sancho's a mean sonuvabitch." He turned to Martinez. "Hey, maybe you can have Jared check out Sancho's signature, his M.O—all of that. He's committed dozens of known murders before. See if the feds can provide some weird connection."

Martinez nodded. He grabbed a pen and a piece of paper to write down the relevant information. "Will do. Had to give that guy some work, anyway," he said. "Give me by the end of the day."

Jacob rubbed his chin. "So, if Sancho, indeed, did it…"

"Then the Voltutri's been using the Velasquez Cartel as their own band of mercenaries," Leah finished. The thought was daunting but not unbelievable. From all accounts, the cartel was about the money, and if one had a good amount of it, then previous agreements, be damned. The Velasquez wasn't the first or last criminal organization to do such a thing.

"Using another gang to cross off your hit list," Martinez snorted, shaking his head. "It's basically the vampire version of Murder Inc."

"All behind the Cullen's back," Leah followed. "So much decades-long loyalty."

"Haven't you heard, Clearwater?" Jacob asked with the roll of his eyes. Not at his partner, but at the increasing insanity that was this investigation. "It's just business."

* * *

"_Booyah_!"

Leah briefly looked up from her computer screen, not impressed by Embry's seemingly childish remark. "Booyah is not a word, Office Call," she replied, being purposely pretentious. She waited for Embry to take a seat behind Jacob's desk. Noticing a large envelope in the cop's hands, she asked, "What do you have for me?"

Embry couldn't contain his excitement; he was practically fidgeting in the chair, rubbing his hands together and grinning as if he had hit the biggest jackpot in his life. Leah couldn't tease him about it, though; it was nice to see someone still excited over police work. "Text messages found on the lovely Gianna Castellano's burn phone. Custody of the wonderful tech nerds downtown," he announced, waving the envelopment. "From September 2015 to January 2018."

Leah's eyes widened as her typing came to a stop. She stared at the envelope—Holy shit, he _did_ hit the jackpot. She looked up at the younger cop. "Did you find anything useful?"

Embry leaned back in the seat, placing his hands behind his head. "I thought we should have a viewing party." He sat up and searched around the office space. "Where's our fearless alpha? He owes me twenty bucks."

Leah scoffed. One would think Jacob had learned his lesson about placing bets since their last UNO game. "For what now?"

Embry smirked. "For underestimating my ability to persuade the CPD's Geek Squad to hand over these docs by the end of this week," he said. "Usually, it takes ten business days."

Leah nodded, understanding. She then glanced to her right where she could Jacob emerge from one on of the hallways; he was heading her way. Good. "Your contact came through," she said with a smile.

"She sure did," Embry replied. Seconds later, he clapped. "Ah, there he is," he announced, speaking of Jacob, who now stood a couple of feet away with him, not too pleased about his seat being taken.

Jacob crossed his arms. "Get out my chair, Call."

"Aren't you missing a preposition, Black?" Embry taunted with an extremely obnoxious grin. "An _of_?" When Jacob picked up a stray banana off of his desk and tossed it at Embry's face, the younger cop put his hands up in submission. "Okay, okay, _okay_, violence is not tolerated in the workplace." He hopped out of the seat and made a sweeping gesture at the chair. "For you, my Lord."

Leah snorted as Jacob finally took his seat. After Embry pulled up a chair from an empty desk, Jacob pointed at the envelope and asked, curious, "What's that?"

"We're having a viewing party, featuring Gianna's text messages," Leah explained. "And you owe Embry twenty bucks."

Jacob lifted an eyebrow.

Embry slammed a hand on the table. "_Booyah_!" he shouted, excited until he caught sight of Leah's look of disapproval. He gulped a couple of times. "Sorry."

Jacob glanced between his partner and the younger cop, confused. "What are you—" He stopped and then pointed at Embry. "It was a joke!"

"The handshake we shared suggested _otherwise_."

Leah fought back a chuckle; she loved when Jacob and Embry engaged in their squabbles. Honestly, Jacob had no one to blame but himself for losing money yet again. "Jacob, just give him his money," she softly implored.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Fine," he grumbled, pulling out his wallet. Seconds later, he tossed a twenty-dollar bill at the smirking Embry. "Let's get this viewing party started, shall we?"

Leah whole-heartedly agreed.

Embry clapped and then opened the envelope. He pulled out the pages (with large font, thank goodness) and displayed on the cleared desk place. He pointed to one of them. "I'd put more focus on the few months leading up to Gianna's death," he suggested. "Like this one, October 9, 2019: _I except five-large for my services. All in cash. Cleaned. Same dropping spot._"

"I assume by services, she meant sharing information?" Leah asked.

Embry nodded. "You can safely assume that."

"Clean cash? Only cash?" Jacob needed, impressed. "Well, she wasn't dumb."

"She wasn't too bright, either," Embry argued. "C'mon, why did she think she was going to get away with fucking the _Volturi_ over?"

"True, but I do find it hard to believe that this is the same girl who accepted only ten grand from the Cullens in exchange for information," Leah said. "Maybe there was another incentive?"

"They probably offered to turn her into one of them," Embry joked, but then again, the suggestion wasn't that far fetched. Both Gianna and Jessica had seemingly been obsessively interested in turning into a vampire.

Jacob shook his head. "I honestly don't understand the obsession."

"Immortality is enticing," Leah remarked. "But then again, from all accounts, Rosalie doesn't seem too thrilled about being one. Like everything, vampirism has its downsides—What about this phone number?"

She was referring to the number who had received Gianna's text. The detective couldn't recognize the area code.

"No trace."

Jacob ran a hand down his face and groaned, "Of course, there isn't."

"Alright." Embry pointed at another text conversation. They were all mostly one-way. "October 14th: _Like I said: don't worry about it. Everything's settled. Lock n' loaded. Watch for Midway next summer. You'd love it_."

Jacob grabbed the page and examined it further. "That's Eric's number," he declared. "Holy fucking shit. She fucking _told_ them. She told the Fangs about the contraband on that flight."

One year out.

Gianna had the heist in mind _one year out_.

"Read further," Embry suggested.

"Eric:_ how much you talking_?" Jacob read aloud. "Gianna: _Goodfellas_." He sighed. "Gotta love mob-movie references—Eric: _don't fuck us over_. Gianna: _when have I ever?_" He looked up. "This girl had a bigger death wish than Jessica. I'm not too sure how that's _possible._"

Embry shrugged.

"So, this wasn't the first time she's interacted with the Fangs," Leah concluded. "That's one hundred percent a motive for murder. Question is: how did the Volturi find out? About Gianna's betrayal? About the heist from one year out?"

"Obviously someone talked," Embry said. "I'm putting my money on Demetri. Wasn't she heads over heels in love with the man? She probably thought she could trust him—Check this one out. January 2nd_: It's me or her. I've been loyal from the beginning and def until the end. All she is an opportunist_."

"Jessica," Jacob said. "She was referring to Jessica."

Embry nodded and carried on, "January 3rd: _If you want to end everything, tell me and ride with you_. One hour later: _Let's give her a birthday surprise n' remind who's she's fucking with_." He looked up. "No response to any of these texts, but they were received."

"January 15th was Jessica's birthday," Leah remarked. "She was found dead that night. On her birthday."

She shared a quick look with Jacob.

_Holy_.

_Fuck_.

Embry nodded again. "January 5th: _I have arranged everything_," he read. "Two hours later: _Show her affection, don't give a shit. I'll join 2. Just reminder, only 2 will see the sunrise_."

Jacob leaned back in his seat, stroking his chin. "So, let me get this straight: Gianna was setting up Jessica's death as she was being set up for her own death, _as well_?"

Embry cleared his throat. "Crazy, I know. But it sure seems like it."

"And the Volturi must've known," Leah added. "None of their underlings would breathe without the leaders' blessings. They must've given Demetri the green-light."

Embry tilted his head. "But why did Demetri tell them?"

"It was getting too hot for him, too?" Leah suggested with a shrug. "Maybe this was his version of C.Y.A?"

"But the gory display? How did Gianna arrange _that_?"

"Martinez is having Jared check-up on this Velasquez-linked Sicario," Jacob explained. "The name's Sancho Alvarez… yeah, _that guy_. There may be a link between Jessica's display and the plane robbers'."

"What about Gianna?" Embry asked. "I wouldn't call that gory one or weird."

Leah gathered the pages of text messages and compiled them into a neat pile. "No, it was just plain disrespectful," she said. "A complete disregard for a person's dignity. She was better off resting in the watery grave in Lake Michigan."

* * *

Aisha had to laugh when Leah informed her of Embry's newest findings later that afternoon during a stroll some blocks from the station. The friends were taking a short break from sitting at their desks and dealing with paper, meetings, and phone calls. "Did she really arrange one of the most infamous murders in this city's history over a _man_?" she asked, incredulous.

Leah shoved her hands into her pockets and let out a humorless chuckle. "What do you mean? Didn't you know Demetri Karlov was a catch?"

Aisha shook her head and snorted. "The man wasn't ugly and had money, but I'm getting sadistic, psycho vibes from him," she said. "I don't get it. He had like five-billion girlfriends. What made her think she was so special?"

"She was more than a one-night stand. To some, that means everything."

"That's sad… Did all of that only to get murdered hours later."

"Funny how life, or in this case, death works."

"So, this basically closed the Dahlia's case."

"Did it?" Leah asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Gianna might have been a co-conspirator, Demetri might have delivered the fatal bite, but there's still the mutilation."

"Maybe they did it?"

"Doubt it. Bella and Eric said that only someone with a medical background could've made those lacerations. Too neat and precise for an amateur... Come to find out, Sancho used to be a ship's surgeon and barber. Back in the Golden Age of Pirating, and then practiced medicine in Mexico until he was turned in the 1840s."

Aisha stood for a moment, tilting her head. "Sancho Alvarez is a vampire? As in _the_ Sancho Alvarez?" When she received confirmation, she gulped. "Well, damn. From what I've heard about it, him and his boys are fucking insane. Like even more sadistic than Demetri. You got a good price for him, he'll do whatever the hell you want."

"Including cutting up your romantic rival," Leah said. "Leaving her for dead in a bloody heap."

"What happened to Gianna?"

"We have no idea," Leah admitted. "I mean, I guess, Demetri could've done the deed, but something tells me that's way too easy."

"He could've just been following orders," Aisha suggested, turning around to head back to the police station. "She died from a slit-throat; not that too hard for a seasoned killer to do."


	37. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

* * *

"I'm warning you: I have no idea what I'm doing," Leah informed a certain canine, currently sprawled across her mother's living room floor as she scrolled through her phone in search of a crash course in becoming a masseuse. For a _wolf_. "I should not and will not be responsible for any injury I may cause."

Jacob let out a distressed whimper.

Leah glanced at her partner and sighed.

She was semi-tempted to call Kim and pay her whatever, but the vet was in New Orleans and was not be to be disturbed unless for a _dire_ emergency. And although Jacob was in pain, he was only suffering from a serious muscle pull, not a near-death situation, so…Leah could handle this.

It was a goddamn massage, for goodness' sake, not actual brain surgery.

Leah took a deep breath and continued her search. And as expected, there wasn't much on wolf-related massages, so she went for the next best thing: dogs.

Moments later, after skimming the website page and gathering enough confidence to believe that, _no_, _she wouldn't kill her partner_, she tossed her phone aside. She then locked her hands and pushed them out. "Okay, let's do this," she said with a loud clap.

Jacob made a sound of approval.

She would quickly find out that providing comfort to an oversized wolf was significantly harder and more strenuous than on a human. But Jacob insisted that he would heal faster if he were in wolf-form… which was true, unfortunately, in this case. So, Leah would just have to deal.

"You need to see a damn professional," Leah mumbled as she turned her attention the area around the wolf's spine. She shook her head as she recalled the events from a half an hour ago when Jacob had somehow managed to pull his back as he emerged from the car—

In her professional opinion, the man had injured himself _well_ before that. Most likely, during the apprehension of a very uncooperative Velasquez cartel-linked hitman; though accompanied by Martinez, Jacob had done most of the muscle-work.

Leah moved up the wolf's back, stopping at the shoulders. Checking on Jacob, she figured she couldn't be doing _that_ bad of a job. Jacob had visibly relaxed; his pained groans had reduced to low murmurs. His tail was no longer stiff.

Oh, thank goodness. That meant she wasn't causing any discomfort.

She carried on, now focusing on the back of his neck. A spot she knew from experience that always seemed to bring him relief (or calm him down)—

Jacob's form suddenly tensed. Taken aback, Leah looked up and then loudly groaned. Of course. This was just her luck that standing in the opening between the front door and the living her was Sue Clearwater just staring at the other occupants, jaw dropped, and groceries almost slipping out of her hands.

Oh.

Leah tried to think of a lie, but one second in, she gave in. A ten plus foot long wolf was lying on her mother's living room floor—what kind of lie could she have come up with?

She gulped. "It's not what it looks like."

At least Jacob wasn't freaking out? Small favors, she supposed.

Without moving her gaze, Sue slowly placed the bags on the floor. "So…" she trailed off as her eyes widened in recognition. "Is that… who I think it is?" She took a few steps forward. "Jacob?"

Leah looked at her partner. Yeah, the eyes definitely gave him away. "I'm afraid so," she said, resuming her ministration, but this time only using her hands, not her elbows. She checked on her partner's face; he seemed fine. Tense, but not nearly as before. He was probably just as shocked by the turn of events as Leah was.

"So, that's what they look like…" Sue breathed, bringing a hand to her chest. "Goodness, how massive..." She looked down at her daughter, at the wolf, and then back at Leah. She swallowed a couple of times. "Does he know it's me?"

"Of course," Leah said, glancing at her eyes. His gaze was locked on Sue, but it was soft, nowhere near the vicinity of threatening. "He wouldn't be like this if he didn't."

Sue's shock was soon replaced by curiosity and awe. She reached out her hand but withdrew it. She glanced at her daughter and swallowed. "Can I…?"

"It's fine," Leah insisted. She took her mother's hand and gently placed it on Jacob's pelt. "You can move in circles. That seems to do the trick."

Jacob was definitely not complaining.

"What happened?"

"Pulled his back," Leah said. "We heal faster in wolf-form."

Sue slowly nodded as she moved her hands in a circular motion. She was still bit apprehensive, understandably so, but once Jacob closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders, she relaxed as well.

Leah smiled. "He likes you."

Sue let out a nervous laugh. "I think it's only because you're right here," she remarked. She froze when Jacob moved. It wasn't anything alarming, but Sue stopped her ministrations.

"Don't worry," Leah said with an assuring smile. "He's enjoying it."

Sometime later, Leah grabbed the plastic bag containing Jacob's clothes and led him into the closest room (the first-floor bathroom was _not _going to work). She left Jacob to his own devices as he phased back to being on two feet and got dressed.

Sue was still standing in the living room when her daughter appeared. She looked nervous, but not scared. "Was I not supposed to…?"

"It's fine," Leah said with a small wave. "Seriously."

Sue slowly nodded, glancing at the closed door to the guest room. She cleared her throat before a grin graced her features. "That was cool," she said. "Let me know when you can do that, will you?" She blinked. "Can you…do that?"

"Only done it a couple of times," Leah said. "I don't nearly have the control he has."

"I suppose that comes with years of experience," Sue said. "You don't even have a year…." Sue clapped. "Well, I'll be in the kitchen." She gave her daughter a pointed look. "Cooking _dinner_."

Leah nodded, catching onto her mother's comment. It seemed that her partner wasn't going to be leaving this residence anytime soon. Lowly chuckling to herself, she went to check up on said-partner.

Leah softly closed the door behind her and walked further inside until she was standing a couple of feet in front of Jacob. "I'm so sorry," she said before the man could say a word. "I know how much you wanted to keep this, you know, _private_, and I should've noticed…"

Jacob pointed a thumb at his chest. "Do you see me complaining?"

Leah crossed her arms. Of course, he would say something like that. "No, because you're nice," she replied as if that specific trait was a bad thing.

"I wouldn't say that…" Jacob trailed off with a sheepish laugh, rubbing the neck of his neck. He eventually dropped his arm. "Leah, don't worry about it. Really. The look on your mom's face made my day… It's all good."

Leah searched her partner's face for a lie. When she couldn't find any, she dropped her arms and lifted both shoulders as she sighed in relief. "Are you feeling better?" she asked, remembering why they were in this predicament in the first place.

"Much better," Jacob insisted, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his arms. Then, as he rubbed his hands together, he looked around the room, pointedly at the half-opened window. "So, what's the best way to get outta here without it being weird?"

Leah lifted an eyebrow. "Outta here?" She scoffed at the absurdity of Jacob's question. "Oh no, Detective, you have to _stay_ for dinner. My mom isn't going to let you leave without feeding you—And before you ask: Yes, I saw you glancing at the window. And no, you cannot escape through it."

"Ah, man." Jacob feigned disappointment, but his act was soon replaced by a hearty laugh. "I was thinking about it until you said dinner. Oh c'mon, Clearwater, have you met me? Now, why would _I_ ever say no to free food?"

"Because my mother might've been an interrogator in her past life," Leah said. And she was dead serious. "Be prepared for anything and everything. I swear that woman can talk a stranger into providing their social security number and access to their bank account, including the off-shore ones."

_Thank goodness_, Sue didn't use her talents for criminal activity.

Jacob seemed to be looking forward to the prospect rather than being concerned. "Thanks for the heads up," he said with a wink.

Leah shook her head, pitying her partner, who clearly had _no_ idea what he was about to endure in. She took a step forward and looked up at Jacob. "You're really good?"

Jacob grinned before walking back-first towards the room door. "My back no longer hurts, _and_ I'm about to get fed _while_ being interrogated?" He opened the door and gestured Leah to exit before him. "Of course, I'm good."

* * *

"Are we legally allowed to use a non-law enforcement official during questioning of pain-in-the-ass suspects?" Jacob asked in lieu of a greeting as Leah entered the car. "Or would Paul shut that all down?"

Leah laughed at the seriousness of Jacob's tone. "I warned you," she sang as she put on her seat belt. She glanced at the car's digital clock. 6:51 am—the start of another workday. "But you wouldn't listen to me. And now, my mom knows about your fears, the history of the Black family, including the unsavory details, and your lack of love life—Speaking of which…." She narrowed her eyes. "When were you going to tell me about this wedding date? How did my mom find out before I did?"

Jacob put the gear in drive and checked his mirrors before driving away from the curb. "You both found out at the same time," he pointed out. "And it's not what you think. Trust me."

"I don't know if I can anymore." Leah crossed her arms, lifting her chin in the air. "It seems that you only tell your deepest, darkest secrets when my mom is around."

"And I'm supposed to be the dramatic one," Jacob scoffed, fondly shaking his head. "Look, it's nothing. She's just a plus-one. Apparently."

"Apparently?" Leah let out a melodramatic gasp. "After all of this time and what we've been through, you didn't have the decency to ask me first?" She grabbed her chest and tried to force some tears—she was not successful. "I am hurt. You hear me, _hurt_."

It was supposed to be a joke, but Jacob wasn't laughing. Instead, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as if a deer just galloped in front of the car. "No, no… Oh, god, _no_." He feverishly shook his head. "That's the last thing we _both_ need."

Leah raised an eyebrow, confused by Jacob's reaction, but then shook it off. "Oh, come on, your family likes me. Collin hasn't put a hit on my head, so that has to mean _something_."

That seemed to take Jacob out of his fearful stupid. He rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure it's because he doesn't want to get in trouble for offing a cop," he said with a snort. "And anyway, he's on the wrong side of the family. It's a wedding from my mother's side."

"Ah." Leah nodded. "You can't have a plus-zero? I mean, sure you'll hear some rumblings, but it's not that big of a deal."

"I'm doing Rachel's friend a favor," Jacob stressed as if it was the most important thing in the world to _stress_ the fact to the woman sitting next to him. And before Leah could ask, he added, "It's a long story."

A story Leah planned to extract out of her partner at the right time. "Is she at least cute?" she asked.

"Actually, she is."

"Then cheer up, Black. If you play your cards right, maybe you'll get lucky." Leah tapped the man's shoulder a couple of times. Her mouth then curved into a smirk. "You know, Embry and Jared are having a bet. If you don't get it on by the end of this month,_ I_ have to fork up fifty bucks—No pressure. Oh, but your immediate supervisor is also in on it, so…"

"I can't—" Jacob pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. "I need a new pack," he groaned.

"No, you don't," Leah said once her laugher died down. "Remember: you brought Paul and I back from the near-dead, so obviously you can't live without us. You need Quill because even I had to admit that he's the most rational member of the group, Embry is the loveable little brother you wished you always had and Jared… he's coming along very quickly."

Jacob lifted his head to give his partner an incredulous look. "Are you guys really running a bet about when I'm getting _laid_?"

Leah blinked—she had never thought of it that way. Embry and Jared, in a shocking turn of events, made the bet sound a lot less like _that_.

"That's the thing I'm learning about being a member of a pack. We are way too involved in each other's lie." She grimaced; there were just some things about the rest of the wolves she just didn't _need_ to know. She let out a short laugh. "Hey, it was you or me, and apparently, my threats hold more weight than yours."

"It's the glares," Jacob maintained. He breathed a sigh of relief when the light finally turned green. "You're terrifyingly good at that."

So, Leah had been told.

"Well, whatever it is, do something. I refuse to lose my post-payday nail manicure money because of your lack of a sex life. If this wedding date doesn't work out, then I'm going to use drastic, completely legal measures."

Jacob shook his head, most likely out of disbelief. "Are you seriously stooping this low for _fifty bucks_?"

"Have you seen my cuticles?" Leah looked down at her nails; they looked _okay_. "I need a professional to tend to them every two weeks… Also, you are a dear friend. Friends help friends get laid. Money or no money involved."

Jacob chuckled. "What would I do without you, Leah?"

"That is an excellent question," Leah squeezed Jacob's free hand and smiled softly when his gaze met hers. "Just try it. See how it goes, Jacob. Hey, all bets aside, you never know… she could be the person you've been looking for all along."

"Now, you sound like my sisters."

Leah's smile turned into a playful smirk. "Of course, I do. Great minds think alike."

* * *

"I miss simple homicides with simple motives, simple suspects. Cases where we didn't uncover conspiracies at every turn... Exciting for a TV show, but a pain in my ass in real life—Now, let me get this straight: are you telling me that Gianna Castellano, the so-called Volturi secretary, and Demetri's maybe-main chick, was not only feeding information to the Olympic coven but also Jacob's _family_?"

Leah glanced at her partner as she dumped a couple of sugar packets into her first cup of coffee of the day. Jacob's blood affiliation with the Fangs was a running joke in this unit; most people were smart enough to take things to another, unnecessary level.

"They're not _all_ related to me," Jacob reminded the captain. He then shrugged. "But yeah, that's basically what we're saying."

Paul shifted his gaze from Jacob to Leah and then back. He shook his head, running his hand over his head as he paced around cramped desks. He eventually stopped and demanded, "Explain."

Leah cleared her throat and gave her captain what he wanted, "Rumor has it that Gianna was privy to information regarding Volturi's transport of nationwide and international contraband, particularly to Italy. The Volturi has a stronghold in Volterra, Italy, so we can assume that was the stolen goods' intended destination."

Jacob followed up with, "We believe she was the one who told the Fangs about Midway. We have text messages stating as such."

Paul's brows drew together. "Hold on. Midway just happened like a month ago. Gianna has been dead for over a year and a half. How is any of this possible?"

"Illegal transport at this level takes planning," Leah explained. "Planning takes time. The source made it sound like the reservations were made a year or two in advance."

"That girl had a fucking death wish," Jacob said. He then pulled out a copy of the text transcripts. "Check it out. You can thank Embry for that evidence."

As on cue, Embry appeared with a wide, proud grin on his face. He pulled up a chair next to Leah and sat down, leaning back with his hands folded behind his head. He must've expected a declaration of congratulations from the captain—Paul didn't exactly give one.

"I'm glad you're doing your job," the captain said, knowing full and well Embry would react. And as expected, Embry threw up his hands and whined about the lack of disrespectful. Paul brushed off the younger cop's complaints. "This is good," he admitted. "Real good… but I'd like to remind you that we're not the Bureau. What happened at Midway is their problem, their case. We're only concerned about the Green Lawn Ditch murders…"

Leah was afraid Paul was going to say that. "Which was a by-product of the Midway Heist," she argued.

"_Yes_. But I don't need to know _how_ the heist happened. I need to know how those fools were found out and how the hell their bones ended up in a ditch. People like Jackie Chan isn't our problem."

"But he is," Jacob insisted. "He used to work at Napolitano's. If you remember, that's where Gianna used to work at. A company everyone knows is a front for the Volturi."

"Let the feds handle Jackie Chan."

Leah took a sip of her coffee and asked, "What about Alicia Rivera?"

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"The baggage handler at Midway. According to a source, she was in the plot, as well. Now, before you give her the Jackie Chan-treatment, hear me out. Her brother, actually her cousin, is Sancho Alvarez."

Paul blinked. "Sancho Alvarez? I know you're not talking about the…" He tossed his head back and groaned. "_Shit_. Wait. That doesn't make sense. I thought he vowed to keep his ass _out_ of the US?"

"Promises are meant to be broken," Jacob said. "Sancho is a hitman, working for the Velasquez Cartel. He also has ties to Jasper Whitlock, now known as Hale. The _other_ Sicario. I mean, if I were gonna knock off some wolves, I'd get the best."

"Felix's not best?" Embry wondered.

"Felix has boundaries, believe it or not," Leah said. "I hear he has a strict-no-child-killing policy. Though, based on what happened to Vasili, that code does not translate to vampires."

"Vasili wasn't supposed to exist, remember?" Paul remarked with a snort. "Okay, I'll check with the feds. See if they have anything on Sancho. I'm sure they'll be just as surprised to find out that he's been in this country as of 2018. I'll check with Border Control, too… if the man's smart and our federal agencies are competent enough, he would've snuck into the country using a damn good alias."

"And Alicia Rivera?"

"Let's have a chat with her," Paul told Leah. "But be subtle about it, _please_. Midway's execs are still pissed off about constant federal presence. _Yes_, I know it's because of the heist, but the big bosses fear that everyone will use exclusively use O'Hare." He waved it off, rolling his eyes. "Corporate problems—Anything else?"

"The Dahlia case," Embry said. "If you read further, Boss, you'll see something even more interesting than this Midway-crap."

"If you check the last couple of pages," Leah said. "You'll see that, according to the text messages we have obtained from a burner phone, Gianna had arranged the execution of Jessica Stanley due to a romantic rivalry. They were both intimately involved with Demetri Karlov."

Paul read the texts and frowned. "What did they _see_ in him?"

Embry shook his head. "Thoughts, exactly, Boss."

"We know that Demetri delivered the fatal bite, so both him and Gianna conspired to kill Jessica," Jacob said. "What is up the in the air is how the victim was dismembered. The ME's are adamant that only someone with a medical background or experience in butchery could have made those precise cuts."

"I don't understand," Paul said. "Why cut her up? She was already dead."

"It may have been an attempt to throw us off," Embry suggested. "To put the blame on solely the Cullens, as well. Unfortunately, we have yet to find concrete links between that family and these particular murders."

"Besides motive," Jacob added with a shrug.

"We're looking into Sancho Alvarez," Leah informed the captain. "He has a medical background. Plus, overkill is one of his many disturbing talents. Give him the right price, and he'd do anything."

Paul handed the text messages back to Jacob and crossed his arms. "So, there's _nothing_ on the Cullens? Are you seriously telling me that after all of this time, they were innocent all along?"

"Absolutely not," Leah quickly said. "They're not innocent by any means, but in terms of killing Jessica and Gianna, even with the obvious motive?" She shook her head. "All evidence points to the Volturi. The Cullens knew about it, _yes_, did absolutely nothing about it, of course, and tried to bribe a coroner, but didn't actually _commit_ the homicide."

"So, they set them up, too, then," Paul concluded. He emitted a frustrated sigh. "They let Jessica go through with that UV deal, knowing full and well what was going to happen."

Leah exchanged looks with the other cops. "It seems so."

"So, based on what I've just heard, it appears that the Dahlia case's been, more or less, resolved," Paul announced. "Gianna and Demetri arranged it, Demetri did it, and some other guy got paid to do a little overkill… I'd like to know if it's truly Sancho, but I think, for the time being, we need to move on to more difficult matters, such as…"

"Gianna," Jacob provided, and before he could get any pushback from the captain, he explained himself, "I know we've placed her case aside, but it just blew _wide_ open a couple of weeks ago. And not just because of the text messages found her on her phone. She was involved in Jessica's killing. She was involved in the heist—something gotta give. And something fishy is going on at Napolitano's." He fished out the notes he gathered during the trip to Cicero and handed them to the captain. "Check it out."

Paul skimmed through the report, nodding occasionally. "This is good intel," he said, handing the pages back to Jacob. "But if you don't mind, I'm going to assign Napolitano's to the team that's handling white-collar crimes. Your homicide detectives, remember? You have enough on your plate—Your focus should only be the Green Lawn Murders. Gianna's and the Dahlia's case should be put on the backburner for the time being."

As exciting as getting to the bottom of the Napolitano-drama was, both Leah and Jacob and even Embry had to admit that their captain was right.

"Green Lawn, it is," Jacob confirmed with a hard slap to his desk.

* * *

"I wonder why the Cullens were so concerned about the outcome of Jessica's autopsy if they supposedly had nothing to do with it?" Aisha asked during the ride to a restaurant on the periphery of downtown, where she had Leah planned to have lunch. "It wasn't like the ME was going to put 'death by vampire bite' on the report."

"They didn't want to have an autopsy at all," Leah reminded her friend as she changed the radio station from the news. She had been hearing the news all damn day. "Maybe it had something to do with the Deal? I don't know. The whole thing is weird…"

Aisha shook her head. "I still can't get over Gianna going to such great lengths to get a rival killed," she said, pulling the car to a stop at the red light. "That was completely unnecessary... did you guys find the overkill-artist?"

"We're leaning on Alvarez," Leah said. "Embry looked into some of his self-professed masterpieces." She then took out her phone and scrolled through the camera roll. "Here."

Aisha stole a look at the picture and cringed. "You sure he wasn't the Black Dahlia killer?" she asked, turning her focus back onto the road. "I mean, it's still an unsolved crime, and he would've been roaming the earth that the time."

Leah snorted as she relaxed in the passenger seat. "The way things have been going, I wouldn't be surprised. We have no idea where he is. Gianna and Demetri, the ones who probably hired him, are dead. Which leaves the people who…" she trailed off and then snapped her fingers. "Alicia Rivera."

"The baggage handler," Aisha said, moving at the sight of the green light. "I hear she's on vacation."

Leah nodded. "Yeah, for another week," she said. They had found that information from a work friend at the airport. One of the very few cooperative employees. "Miami."

"Damn, she beat us there," Aisha joked, and then asked, "Got anything else on her?"

"She's active on social media, but no mentions of her cousin. Her phone number is being checked on as we speak—she had it on her not-so-private Facebook page."

Aisha snorted. "If you're going to be involved in a conspiracy, at least be smart about it."

"The stupidity makes me sad," Leah remarked before increasing the volume on the car radio.

One of her favorite songs was on.

* * *

When Leah returned from lunch, there was a large envelope on her desk that definitely hadn't been there before. She checked the address—there wasn't one, of course, but it was marked as scanned (so the chances of it being an incendiary device significantly decreased).

She opened it to find a CD. Curious, she checked the label on the paper cover. _To My Favorite Customer. Remember I scratch your back, you scratch mine_.

Leah grinned, knowing full and well who the sender was.

"Hey, you guys want to join in on a listening party?" She called out to Jacob and Martinez as she inserted the disk into the computer. "I got this from a source. She had a conversation with Ricky Ricardo's wife, the one who's too scared to speak to the police."

"Favorite customer?" Jacob teased, wiggling his eyebrows when he could sight of the CD cover. He brought over a chair from an adjacent desk. A chuckling Martinez did the same. "Let me find out."

Leah rolled her eyes. She cleaned off the area in front of her partner so that he wouldn't be blocked by an ever-so-increasing pile of papers. "It's not like that," she maintained. "Trust me."

"So, what _is_ that about?" Martine wondered.

"Just another person who doesn't to spend time in jail of illegally possessing a UV," Leah said, opening the video player application on her computer. From the looks of it, the file was only audio. "A little give-and-take, that's all."

Leah might have trusted Martinez, but he didn't have to know about Tia. Or at least, Leah's suspicions about Tia. To be frank, she probably shouldn't have even told Jacob of her suspicions. Working undercover, she knew from personal experience, was, in lack of a better term, a sonovabitch.

She clicked on the "play" button.

The first few minutes weren't anything special. There were two people, women, present. One was sounding like Tia and the other, Maria, Ricky's widow. They were inside a home, most likely Maria's apartment.

"Is that Ricky's ex-girlfriend?" Martinez asked when he recognized the woman's voice. "The one who was butting heads with Esposito the other day?"

Leah paused the recording. "If you're speaking of Tia, then yes," she said. "She and Maria somehow put aside their natural dislike for each other due to their lover's untimely demise."

"They should write a book," Jacob remarked. "Jerry Springer weeps."

Leah continued playing the audio.

_"I want to thank you for checking up on me," Maria said, likely moving around in the kitchen, based on the sound of the fridge and cabinets opening and the running of water from the faucet. She filled up a cup and placed it on the table. "But I don't want to be a hassle…"_

_Tia pulled out a chair and sat down on the creaking wood. "It's not a hassle, at all," she insisted. She then let out a sigh. "Look, I'm truly sorry about messing around—"_

_"No," Maria said. Leah could imagine her putting up a hand to silence the other woman. "It wasn't what I wanted to come back to, but we have separated. No hard feelings."_

_"Thank you," was Tia's sincere reply. Whether or not she was truly into Ricky or was just doing her job was up to date in Leah's mind. But even she had to admit that Tia seemed genuine in her grief over Ricky's death. "I mean it, and thank you for the water. My throat felt like the goddamn desert."_

_Maria lightly chuckled. "No problem," she said. "It's pretty hot out there. Even for me and I grew up on an island. Well, one half." Silence fell between the women for several seconds, until Maria spoke up again, "I wonder what life would be right now if Ricky hadn't participated in that damned plane robbery."_

_"You don't know if he—"_

_"Oh, I know."_

The detectives exchanged surprised and intrigued looks.

_"You knew?"_

_Maria scoffed. __"I'm his wife. Of course, I did. He didn't even have to tell me, and I still knew—I told him it was a stupid idea. Stealing from a plane? Wasn't there a mafia movie about that? Where everyone got screwed over, including the snitch?"_

_"Then why did he do it?"_

_"He said he had to follow orders. Who knew who he worked for, right? Whatever Eric says, Ricky has to do. It's how it is. Him, Tommy, Tony… Elise."_

Leah paused the video and looked at the other detectives. "Elise?"

Martinez shrugged.

Jacob snapped his fingers. "The one only I know is Elise Jackson, a sister of one of Collin's ex-girlfriends…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "But she's supposed to be out of the game. In medical school. In _Texas_."

"Victim Number Seven," was Martinez's ominous declaration.

Leah nodded. That made sense, unfortunately, according to the medical examiner, one of the victims was a female. She swallowed and pressed the play button. Victim Number Seven, it was.

_"Elise?" Tia sounded just as surprised as Jacob. __"I thought she was out of the game?"_

_"Money talks. But money doesn't travel with you to the afterlife. They did all of that, for what? Just to be found—all bones—in a ditch." Maria sighed. "You know, her mom called me last week? Asking about Elise. She thought she was living it up in San Antonio, working on her nursing degree, taking care of her kids… I couldn't tell her she was in Chicago. That would only break her heart."_

_Another bout of silence came._

_"Maria, I need you to be honest with me," Tia said moments later. Her tone was stone, no-nonsense as if she was participating in an interrogation. "Have you spoken to the police ever since they ransacked this place?"_

_Maria swallowed. "Of course, not," she said, voice unwavering. "I'm not stupid. I already got the message. I don't need another one… I'd like to live the rest of my life in peace."_

_"Even if that means they won't find Ricky's killer?" Tia asked. "I'm sure you want some closure."_

_"I don't need the cops to do a damn thing," Maria replied hotly. Under her strong response was fear. "I know who did. Anyone with a brain knew who did it. It was pay-back, simple as that. You're not gonna get away with stealing things from a goddamn plane—Anyway, why you're asking me about the cops?"_

_"I just wanna make sure your head's still screwed on tight," Tia quickly said. "Wanna make sure you stay on course."_

_"Of course, I am. Also, we don't need the cops. Ricky's boss, the one on top, says he got this all under control. Ricky's and the others' deaths won't be in vain. He's gonna make a move. I don't know when, but he is."_

_"You shouldn't get involved in that."_

_"Who do you think I am? One of them? I'm not. Never was. And anyway, if they find out I'm involved in the whatever-revenge plot, I'm gonna end up just like that girl found in that downtown hotel. All chopped up."_

_"Maria…"_

_"I'm thinking about just dropping everything and going to be to DR. It's safer there. I know many people there. I have family. Connections." Maria cleared her throat. "Yeah, Santo Domingo… that's where I should go."_

_"It's not gonna make anything better," Tia said. "I mean, yeah, you'll be miles away, but they're still gonna find you. DR's only so big."_

_"Or I can do witness protection," Maria argued. "But I don't want to have a new identity. I don't want to hide from my family, from my friends. Lie to myself. Lie to everyone_—"

The recording abruptly ended.

Leah hoped it wasn't for a nefarious reason, but then again, she had received the CD, posted marked to two days before. The recorder probably just died.

"Your source came through," "How about we bring Mrs. Ricardo in? At least, jail is somewhat safer. There are guards."

"Tell that to Mike Newton," Jacob said with a loud snort. He rose from his seat as well. "And what exactly would we bring her in for?"

"Obstruction?"

"No," Leah said, ejecting the CD from the computer drive and placing it back into its sleeve. "Let's leave Maria out of this until we have no choice. She technically didn't lie us… but we should definitely keep an eye on her."


	38. Chapter 37

**Chapter** **Thirty-Seven**

* * *

"Start from the top."

No, not now. It was too early for this crap. _7:15 am_. She liked Paul; another brother from another mother, a friend, and a great captain, but she was cursing him to Hell right now.

The past week had been the busiest in months, and Leah could already feel the impending headache as she stood towards the center of the crowd. It was Wednesday, the day dedicated to a unit-wide meeting, where everyone had to be present, had to make a comment. Where Paul would call you out on a whim, and you better have an answer.

Leah glanced around the open-office space until her eyes landed on the row of investigative standing boards, neatly lined up for everyone to see. Six, she counted. Six goddamn boards. All for the same goddamn investigation.

Oh, there was the headache.

But she fought through it because Paul was looking at both her and Jacob, expectantly. Packmate or not, Paul didn't tolerate slackers. She exchanged a look with her partner, and they both silently agreed that she would take the lead this time. After taking a sip of her coffee and placed on it on the desk behind her, she sat and gave her captain what he wanted.

"For the past couple of months, Black and myself, Martinez, St. Pierre, Call, and Cameron have been primarily focusing on the Green Lawn Ditch Murders," she informed the crowd. "After further investigation, we have found that the times had links to the Saint Louis-based MC, The Fangs, all of whom were involved in the Midway Heist—"

"Ain't that the Bureau's problem?" one of the cops commented.

"Yes, and the ATF is involved as well due to the missing items being illegal arms, but the killing happened on our turf. Our turf. Our homicide investigation."

"Joint-investigation," Paul corrected.

Leah gave a tight nod. "Of course."

"So, it was retaliation," Paul concluded, rubbing his chin as he paced around the squad area.

"Yes," Leah confirmed, keeping an eye on her captain's every move. "The stolen goods, well, contraband, belonged to the Volturi."

"How many victims?"

"Eight. We have more or less confirmed seven of them. Actually, one was not a member of the Volturi, rather a member of the Denali clan. We have not confirmed this member was involved in the heist or was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Why would a Denali work with the Fangs?"

"Apparently, both groups considered or is still considering forming some sort of an alliance," Jacob answered for Leah. "They were checking out land near Midway. Prime real-estate in the criminal world due to its proximity to the airport."

"Land that used to belong to Victoria," Martinez added. "The Volturi's also looking into that land."

"But it doesn't stop there," Leah said. "We have reasons to believe that Gianna Castellano was also involved in the heist. For a fee, she practically gave the Fangs to the blueprint—location and time."

"Didn't she die like a year ago?" another detective asked.

"Apparently, these international shipments are arranged well in advance," Aisha explained. "She was the secretary. She would have certainly had access to this information."

"Motive?"

"She wanted to be one of the Big Boys," Jacob said with a shrug. "Had grand aspirations. Thought she had with it takes, especially with his crazy-behind lover, Demetri, by her side."

"Well, that's a wonderful motive for murder," someone remarked behind Leah.

Leah nodded. "Sentiments exactly."

"So, Gianna's case is closed?" Paul asked.

He already knew the answer to that question.

Jacob sighed. "I wouldn't say that…"

"We have reasons to believe that Gianna orchestrated the murder of Jessica Stanley," Leah further explained. "Demetri Karlov was also involved in the conspiracy, but to what extent, we're not entirely sure."

"But wait, there's more," Jacob added. "Demetri most likely killed Gianna directly following Jessica's demise. Most likely on orders from the Volturi."

"Most likely, or is that confirmed?"

"Ninety-five percent sure," Leah said. "We have text messages."

Paul stopped and faced Leah. He had a frown on his face. "That's not a hundred percent," he said. "Sure, that's a very likely sequence of events, but we're dealing with the Volturi and their goddamn lawyers. We need ironclad evidence. I'm talking _titanium-strength_."

Leah cleared her throat. It wasn't what she wanted to hear. She wanted the evidence they had now to be enough, but she knew her captain was right. "Working on it."

"What about the suspects?" Paul asked. "Those responsible for the Green Lawn Murders."

"Working on it," Leah repeated. She wished she had a better answer. "Due to the lack of forensic evidence, we haven't been able to pin all of the murders on one or more people. However, we are looking into the Sancho Alvarez-angle. He's known for staging dramatic scenes. Green Lawn was dramatic. The Dahlia's was dramatic…"

Paul narrowed his eyes. "Are you insinuating that Sancho was also involved in the Jessica Stanley's murder? Demetri delivered the killer bite. We have video evidence of that."

"Yes, but that video doesn't show the Dahlia's mutilation," Embry pointed out.

"Thought Sancho was in Mexico?" someone asked from the edge of the crowd. Many others vocalized the same belief.

"Allegedly," Martinez said.

Paul wasn't too pleased with the answer. Or maybe his grumble was purely out of frustration. Nothing in this investigation was easy. "Allegedly," he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and faced everyone. "Find that sonuvabitch. I don't care how, but _find him_ so we can finally put something to bed for once in our goddamn lives."

* * *

Sometime later, Paul stopped by Leah's desk while Jacob was on a bathroom break. He appeared more on edge, she supposed, than usual, but that probably had everything to do with the phone call he had just had with his immediate supervisor. The brass could be a pain in the ass sometimes, especially the politically-aspired ones. "We're doing this tonight?"

Leah looked up at her boss and nodded. "Nothing's changed," she said, returning her attention to her computer screen as she typed up the last words of her latest report. She turned closed everything out and swiveled in her chair until she faced Paul. "Same place. Same time… What did the boss say?"

Paul let out an exasperated sigh. "What the hell do you think?"

Leah nodded once more. Yeah, so the conversation turned out exactly how she had expected. At least, no one was pulling the plug; small victories. "We'll find him, Captain," she vowed. "Many people know or at least, have heard of Sancho. He can't hide from us forever."

* * *

"Are you positive that this is a good idea?"

Leah was almost hurt by Aisha's doubts although she had to admit that they were valid. The decision to visit the federal prison was a last-minute one, but something was telling her that she had made the right decision.

She locked the unmarked car, and along with Aisha, headed to the visitor's entrance. "You heard what the boss said yesterday: he doesn't care how we do it, just find Sancho Alvarez."

"By working with the enemy," Aisha remarked, flashing one of the guards her badge before walking through the metal detectors.

Leah followed suit. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," she said. "Or at least, a source of knowledge." When Aisha gave her a skeptical look, she insisted that "We're going to ask, and then move along."

"What if she's never heard of the man?"

Leah wasn't too worried. "Given her former line of work, I find that hard to believe," she said before thanking the guards for her belongings and surrendering her service weapon.

Nothing else was said as the pair headed to the receptionist's desk.

"Good morning," Leah later greeted the woman sitting behind the bullet-proof window. "I'm Detective Leah Clearwater from CPD along with Detective Aisha St. Pierre. We have a three o'clock appointment with Sonja Helena DuPont."

"I don't think this is going to work," Aisha whispered into her friend's ear as they waited for their escort to lead them to one of the interview rooms. "Knowing her, she'd want a big incentive." She snorted. "It's not like Barba's gonna fight for a shorter sentence."

Oh, the federal prosecutor definitely was not. Hence why Leah had decided to go with plan B. She lifted the tumbler high and smirked. "We have all of the incentives we need. Have some faith in me."

Aisha eyed the container, still skeptical, but eventually relented. "Fine."

* * *

"I have to admit, I was not expecting to see the both of you," Heidi said as she watched the guard led Leah and Aisha into the interview room. The socialite was sitting at the metal table with both ankles and wrists chained the bolted-down chair. "Nor am I glad, but I suppose I don't have any choice."

"I have to admit, I was not expecting to see the both of you," Heidi said as she watched the guard led Leah and Aisha into the interview room. The socialite was sitting at the metal table with both ankles and wrists chained the bolted-down chair. "Nor am I glad, but I suppose I don't have any choice."

"You're under the custody of the federal government, Mrs. DuPont," Leah told the woman as she and Aisha sat down. "So, no, you don't."

Heidi let out a sigh. She wasn't her usual defiant self; spending all this time in prison must've terribly worn her down. "What the hell do you want?"

Leah fought a smile. Yes, that the Heidi she remembered. "Sancho Alvarez."

Heidi didn't even have to say anything. Her eyes and her frown had said it all. She had heard of the man, just as Leah had expected. The prisoner didn't respond immediately, probably trying to gather the right words that wouldn't incriminate her even more. Not that it would help her fate; she was condemned for life.

"Hadn't heard that name in a while… I hear he's in Mexico."

Heidi shrugged. "Rumor has it."

"You don't sound too sure of yourself."

Heidi rolled her eyes at Leah's observation. "How would I know where's he been lately?" she grumbled as she threw up her hands. "As you can see, I'm stuck _here_."

If the disgraced socialite expected to receive any pity from the detectives, she was sadly mistaken.

"When do you head out west?" Aisha asked.

"If you must know, next month," Heidi replied, understandably not too happy about her fate. She then finally noticed the large bottle next to Leah and snorted. "Oh, come on, do you think you were going to entice me with blood? _Seriously_? I'll have you know that the guards' been supplying me with ample amounts. Something about the laws against cruel and unusual punishment?"

Leah smirked. It was about time Heidi noticed the blood. "I hear it's synthetic," she said. "What we have here is human."

Heidi was pleasantly surprised and then skeptical. "I thought human blood was illegal?"

"We're the law. We can bend the rules a bit to make things happen," Leah returned with a nonchalant shrug. She obviously wasn't going to divulge how she and Aisha pulled it off… it was within the legal gray area, but Paul knew about It. The Office of the Medical Examiner knew about it. Jenks unofficially did as well. "So?"

"Hernán Lozada Portillo," Heidi said, holding her head up high. "You should ask your friend federal agent friends about that name, considering that they've confiscated all of my business documents."

Leah and Aisha shared a glance before Aisha vowed, "We will."

"You know it goes around here—money talks. Money makes you turn the other cheek. No matter how you are. Fugitive or not."

"So, he's been in this country," Leah said, jotting down Heidi's words. She looked up. "Portillo... an alias?"

Heidi tensed in her seat with her eyes still locked on the container of blood. She licked her lips. "With accurate social security number and everything," she breathed, licking her lips. Her eyes flashed red, but thankfully, her limbs were secured enough to the bolted chair that the detectives and the guard didn't have to worry about Heidi breaking free.

Leah glanced at the bargaining chip and fought hard to suppress her smirk. Obviously, it had been a long time since Heidi had last been adequately fed.

Aisha folded her hands on the desk and leaned forward, eyeing the woman across from her through narrowed eyes. She thought Heidi was playing her for a fool; Leah didn't blame her for thinking so, but her friend had seemed to have forgotten the power of human blood. "How do you know this?"

Heidi took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. Her eyes returned to solid amber. "My business was lucrative. I offered something that many people cannot: anonymity," she said, completely in control of herself and her cravings. "But it is always a good idea to keep a profile on your biggest clients. He liked Russians, so I offered him Russians."

Aisha leaned back against her seat and frowned.

Leah didn't know if she wanted to gag or strangle the woman. The way Heidi had said it… so flippantly without any remorse for what she had put her "employees" through. Thankfully, Aisha took over the questioning, "To fuck or to feed?"

The other detective grimaced.

Heidi gave Aisha a sharp look and clenched her fists. Seconds passed, and she relaxed. "Does it honestly matter in the end?" she replied. She then quickly faced the guard. "I am ready to return to my cell," she declared, effectively ending the conversation. "So, about my gift...?"

Leah figured she had gotten enough valuable information from the prisoner. She slid the bottle in Heidi's direction. "I suppose you deserve it," she said, not bothering to hide her disdain. She watched as Heidi put her nose to the top of the container and breathed in the faint bloody aroma. "And your fate. I hope you have a horrible time at Alcatraz. After the shit you pulled, you deserve it."

Heidi sharply looked up. Her glare was harsh, but she didn't say a word.

* * *

"But why the landfill?" Jacob mused the following morning as he studied the Green Lawn crime scene photos. For the umpteenth time. "They could've packed her into a garbage bag and dump her in the hotel's dumpster. That place had several of them. Why go through all this effort of hiring a so-called disposal company that's affiliated with someone you're not the best friends with and disposed of her like twenty miles away?"

Leah glanced up from her copy of Gianna's file and shrugged. "Sancho, or rather, _Hernán Lozada Portillo_, is one creative guy?"

Heidi's intel was currently being reviewed by the Voldemort Unit and the feds. So far, they had gotten multiple hits, including numerous border crossings from Mexico and Canada. Border Control was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Especially since the man was still on the run.

"He only did what he's told…" Jacob pointed out. "And why a ditch inside an abandoned lot at Green Lawn? What is the significance? Is it the proximity to the airport? I mean, yeah, it's ten minutes away, but the lot ain't Midway property. Why move the bodies from an abandoned warehouse fifteen away to there? Out in the open?"

Leah turned the page. "Bella confirmed that the victims' bodies were… dissolved into bones at the site," she said, closing the file. Gianna could wait. "Forensics found traces of the chemical used. But no new DNA evidence. How's that possible? I have no idea."

Jacob slowly nodded. "But only _bones_? Why not go _all_ the way?" The moment he finished his question, he gasped, slapped his forehead, and leaped out of his seat. "I'm a fucking _idiot_."

Leah blinked, puzzled. "Jacob—"

"I'm a goddamn, motherfucking idiot," Jacob grumbled as he grabbed a notepad and a pen. "I'll be back. If you need anything, reach me on the phone." He turned around and called out, "Martinez, we gotta go!"

Leah still had no idea what was going on. "You don't want me to come with?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, that'd make things more complicated," he quickly replied. He snatched his keys from his desk. "It's not you. I swear, it's not you, but…" He sighed. "It's complicated." He looked in Martinez's direction and frowned. "Yo, Martinez, speed it up!"

"_Hold your fucking horses, Black_!" The detective shouted from his desk. He was trying to finish a pastry and a can of pop as quickly as he could. With his mouth full, he picked up his belongings from his desk. "_Can I get my shit, first_?"

Eventually, Martinez got his "shit" together, and both men rushed out of the station, almost knocking down a couple of people and garbage cans along the way. As Leah stared into the entrance, bewildered beyond belief, she was approached by Aisha, who had witnessed the entire scene.

"What was that about?" Aisha asked when she reached her friend's desk.

Leah blinked and looked up at her friend. She shook her head. "I have no idea."

* * *

Jacob and Martinez would eventually return to the station.

Leah didn't bother looking up from her phone when Jacob came around, dropped a bag on his desk, and sat on the edge of the table. "Thank you finally gracing me with your presence," she said in a flat voice. She wasn't fooling anyone. She was still a bit peeved from earlier.

But could anyone blame her? Radio silence for three hours. _Three hours_. He and Martinez could've been in a ditch off the Dan Ryan, and she wouldn't have known until the dispatcher requested backup.

Jacob sighed as he dug into the plastic bag and handed Leah a bundle of beef jerky (her newly-founded guilty pleasure). Perhaps as a peace-offering of some sort. "It wasn't personal," he maintained. "I promise."

Leah frowned— What the hell was that supposed to mean? Wordlessly, she took the jerky and placed them aside. She was going to grill her partner more, which had been her intentions until Martinez made an appearance. Instead, she opened one of a pack of the snack and swiveled in her chair so that she was facing both men. She took a bite out of the jerky before asking, "Who did you see?"

The question was more directed at Jacob, and he was the one who responded first. "My cousin."

"His cousin," Martinez confirmed. He put on an amused smile but dropped it when he caught sight of Leah's less than _amused_ expression. "Collin."

"I know," Leah said. "And I couldn't tag along?" She gave Jacob a sharp look. "I've met the man, you know."

At least, Jacob looked somewhat apologetic. "I know, but I didn't want you to be a distraction."

Leah took another bite of her snack. "Now, why would I be…" She stopped, blinked, and then frowned. There was something about Jacob's expression that unnerved her. "You said it wasn't a big deal."

Jacob ran a hand down his face. "It's not—"

Martinez loudly cleared his throat. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but let's save the arguments for couple counseling, yeah?" he said. It was clearly meant as a joke. Or maybe it wasn't. He put up a hand when Jacob opened his mouth. "I don't wanna know."

Leah and Jacob shared a look, and both silently agreed to drop the matter altogether.

After tossing aside the plastic jerky wrapper, Leah leaned back against her seat with her arms crossed. "Well, did you two get anything out of your little incursion?"

Jacob dropped his arms and his exasperated expression. He was quickly back to his old self. "The location of the bones was what bothered me," he said without providing context or an answer to Leah's question. "Why there, of all places? Why not the warehouse?" He shrugged. "If we're sticking to the Velasquez-hitmen angle, then that place had to have some significance, right?"

Leah slowly nodded. "Make sense."

Martinez nodded as well before adding, "The Velasquez, when they're given a job, don't like to be told how to execute it. They'll get it done but on their terms. I'm sure the Volturi knows that… They were giving free-reign when it came to the robbers, just as long as they died… This area, Green Lawn, used to be controlled by the Velasquez until James and his crew rolled in."

"And now it's unclaimed," Jacob said. "Sort of."

Leah blinked. She was felt like she was missing something. "What the hell does this have to do with Fangs?"

"The Fangs want that area because of its proximity to Midway," Jacob explained. "By roaming around there, with Garrett, the underground real-estate agent, apparently, they were sending a message that Green Lawn was still there's. Technically. Come Hell or high water."

"So, they had double-motives to kill those guys?"

"Knock off the competition while getting still paid." Martinez shrugged. "Hell, why not?"

Leah massaged her temples. "My head fucking hurts already," she complained. After a couple of deep breaths, she asked, "So, why did you see Collin?"

"To confirm my suspicions," Jacob said. "That the bastard saw it all coming."

Leah drew in a sharp breath. Her gaze shifted from one man to the detective; they both wore grave expressions. Fuck. "He pulled an Esme?" she asked, voice cracking. "Are you telling me that Collin had set them all _up_? That he got his own cousin _killed_?"

"It's a cold, cold world," Martinez mused, shaking his head. "That's why business and family shouldn't mix."

"That's for damn sure," Jacob hotly remarked.

"What the fuck did they do to him?" Leah wondered. "He was playing the long game for the past year?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, I think the game started the moment he found out that Eric was messing around with Alicia Rivera, and starting spewing about how he should be in charge. The others, the ones who agreed to participate in this heist, thought so, too."

Martinez then added, "Eric, he had a thing for Alicia. Trusted her. Enough."

Leah had to give it to Collin. If that was really what had happened, then he was one devious sonuvabitch. He had gotten rid of the insurrection problem without even getting involved.

"So, word got back to the Volturi," Leah deduced. "Alicia opened her mouth… why snitched on her?"

"Sean," Jacob said. "He works at the same airport."

Leah slapped her forehead. "Well, fuck me."

"Of course, this is all Collin's account," Jacob added. "Family or not, he can't exactly be entirely trusted. However, he doesn't have much of an incentive to lie. Technically, he hasn't done anything wrong. Can't arrest him for shit. At least, in this case. So, no plea bargain."

"No one has a case on him?" Leah found that hard to believe. Everyone knew about Colin and the Fangs. "I mean, the heist. That's big."

"He wasn't involved," Martinez argued. "At least, not enough to get targeted. Everything was on Eric. Everyone's saying that, not just Colin."

"At least, he's smart."

"Runs in the family," Martinez joked, nudging Jacob with an elbow. "Anyway, he's Saint Louis's problem."

Leah wished it were that easy. The Fangs weren't only active in that city in Missouri; her and Jacob's recent run-in with Collin proved as such. "When is this lady coming back?" she asked because damn, for a woman who was being sought after by multiple law enforcement agencies, getting her to sit down to talk was a pain in the ass. And it wasn't like she was on the run. Presumably.

"Feds will be meeting her at O'Hare when she returns on Saturday. They believe it's better to wait," Jacob said. "I wouldn't worry about it, though. I'm sure they're just as curious as we are to how she's still alive."

"What about her cousin?"

Martinez stood up. "If she plays her cards right, we may get something new on Sanchez Alvarez, too."

Leah could only hope.

* * *

"One would think that after Maria's deportation that the Velasquez would calm the hell down for a bit," Aisha remarked, shaking her head. She and Embry had just received the news from Jacob, Leah, and Martinez about the cartel's shenanigans. "But common sense is not common."

"The offer was too good to pass up," Martinez said. He turned to Leah. "Any word on how many there were paid?"

Leah nodded. "My source claimed it would've been around two-fifty large plus bonuses," she said. Admittedly, Jane had been out of the loop when it came to the details for the GLD murders; her estimate was just that. "A little under three grand a person."

"And the bonuses?"

"The land?" Jacob provided. "They want that territory _bad_."

Embry crossed his arms and rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "If the cartel wants that territory, and the Fangs, who may or may not be conspiring with the Olympic, want that _same_ territory…" he trailed off and gulped. "_My God_, this is about to be yet another turf war. Why would the Volturi want to be involved in that?"

Leah, Jacob, and Martinez all gave a solemn nod.

"Control," Aisha offered. "I mean, it's one of the oldest tricks in the book. Countries and empires, they do it all the time—be an instigator in someone's else conflict, give them money, weapons, intelligence, and sit back and wait. When the war's over, and their side wins, that same country can and will say to the winning side: you owe me."

"Volturi gets influence over the cartel," Jacob added. "They get control over the arms and blood markets."

Aisha agreed. "They're basically playing chess."

Jared shook his head. "But, wait, wait, wait… The Velasquez is loyal to the _Olympic_."

"To an extent," Leah argued. "This is business; we're talking about. You have to remember: the only reason why Maria is so-called friendly with the Olympic in the first place is because of one Jasper Hale, who's currently locked in Arizona."

"He's no longer there to talk up a good game for the Olympic," Jacob remarked. "How tragic."

"If the Volturi gets it their way, the Velasquez merges into their coven," Martinez said. "Can you imagine how powerful they'll become?"

"If that happens, the Olympic is fucked," Jacob stated the obvious. "Royally fucked."

"Especially with the Denalis being disgruntled," Aisha followed. "That's never good."

"We got to do something about the Velasquez. Hit them where it hurts," Martinez declared. "They killed eight people on our turf."

Embry threw up his hands. "What do you think we are, the fucking DEA? The ATF?" He shook his head. "We don't have the capability to bring down a cartel based in another _country_."

"What we need to do is get to the Volturi before they get to the Velasquez," Leah revised for Martinez.

"And how the hell do we do that? They're chilling across the goddamn Atlantic—"

"We lure back to the Land of the Free," Paul calmly interjected, startling everyone with his presence. "They're not giving up on this country. If they were, they would've cut all ties. Not have to worry about what's happening here. But they're still _here_. They still have associates around. This country has something Moldova and Volterra do not."

* * *

"_You made it_."

Leah turned around and grinned at the sight of Jacob, standing at away, down the hall, waving above the heads of several people, all focused on the large sculpture in front of them. She lifted her complimentary flute of champagne, politely excused herself from a light conversation with a couple of guests before heading in her friend's direction.

Of course, she made it. Barring any drastic occurrences, she had no intention of missing the Friday evening showing of Rebecca's (and friends') art at the Logan Square art gallery. She'd never hear the end of it.

"Had no choice," Leah told Jacob when she reached his side. "For the past week, your sister's been sending me various barely-veiled threats, so…" she trailed off, chuckling along with Jacob. After taking a sip of her drink, she scanned the large open space once more. The vibe was pleasant. Not too laid back, not too stuffy. And from the looks of it, more people were trickling in. "This is nice."

Jacob was as proud as a brother could be. "Yeah, I'm happy for her." "Someone already brought one of her paintings. You should've seen her… I thought she was about to bring out the waterworks."

Leah smiled. She was thrilled for Rebecca, who had been working her behind off on this gallery opening for a couple of years now, and finally, everything was coming into fruition.

She glanced behind her to where Rebecca was standing, surrounded by a small crowd, who was genuinely interested in her inspiration for the painting. For a brief moment, they locked eyes and waved.

"Your sister has a talent that I would never possess," she said, adding a self-deprecating scoff. "And trust me, I've _tried_. Had to take a painting class in college. Didn't end well."

Jacob snorted, and then grimaced. "Oh shit, I think I have to an art class, too. Something about Gen Ed?" He slapped his forehead. "Damn it."

Leah was glad she wasn't the only one who was artistically-challenged. "I know the feeling. Wait—" She cocked an eyebrow. "You're going back to school?"

Jacob nodded. "On the department's dime. Well, partially." He shrugged. "Hey, why not?"

"Night classes?"

"I'm afraid so. Can't do online. I have no self-I'll end up playing Call of Duty or binge-watch the entire Office series. Again."

"Don't feel bad. It's a good show."

"Yeah, something tells me that I can't use that as a justification for not doing work."

"Starting in the fall?"

Jacob nodded.

"That's good." Leah finished off the champagne, placed it aside, and then cheekily added, "Try not to fail the art class."

Jacob flashed a wide smile. "I'll try not to disappoint." He then jerked his head to the left. "C'mon. Let me show you around."

The pair eventually stopped at a large painting, signed by Rebecca, that depicted goodness-knows-what. The painting was titled "Majestic". It was majestic, aright. Colors, and lines, and shapes were _everywhere_. But somehow it made sense?

Leah blinked a couple of times and looked at Jacob, who appeared to be just as puzzled as she was (then again, none of them were experts). "I don't want to sound…" she stalled, waving her hand around as if doing so would formulate the right words. In the end, she just asked straight out, "Was she high when she did this? I mean, no judgment. It's fucking cool, but… one gotta be under the influence to do something like this, right?"

Jacob tilted his head and squinted. "She might've dabbled in some ol' fashioned mary-jane from time to time." He tilted his head in the other direction. "Yeah, this definitely looks like it was purple haze-inspired."

"So, it's not just me."

"No, it's not."

The duo fell into a comfortable silence, both studying Rebecca's piece. From a couple of feet away, Leah could pick up others talking about it, being interested in it, calling it a masterpiece. It made her smile, and she made a mental note to mention the conversation to Rebecca when guests and interested buyers weren't hounding her.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry about earlier."

Leah glanced up at Jacob, taken aback, and then she wasn't. She gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to apologize," she said with sincerity. To be honest, she had completely forgotten the incident. "I just want to make sure you didn't end up dead somewhere."

"Yeah, that was my bad," Jacob mumbled, refusing to meet his friend's gaze. He was apologetic, probably more than he needed to be. "In my defense, we weren't allowed to bring any devices into the office."

Leah gave a half-shrug. She supposed that was understandable. Wires and recording devices tended to scare people into _not_ giving one what they needed. "Hold up. He does an office in the city?"

She certainly hoped he didn't because if Colin did, then the Fangs were officially CPD's problem and not just because of the GLD murders—With all due respect, the Voldemort Unit had enough to deal with.

Jacob shook his head and then led Leah to the next art piece. This one was a clay-version of a Progressive tomato soup can, called "Andy Warhol-inspired". Already purchased. Leah appreciated the detailing.

"So, what _was_ that about?"

Jacob swallowed. "I didn't want him to start asking nonrelevant questions."

Leah gave a curt nod. Questions about _her_, she supposed. Of course. She narrowed her eyes. "Is this going to be a problem?" Because if it was, she needed to know now. Or a month ago. "Is this _thing_ going to affect or work?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, no, no, it's not," he insisted, vehemently as if the entire idea was ridiculous. Perhaps in his mind, it was a one-time thing because he was dealing with his cousin, a man who knew it well enough to screw him over where it truly hurt. "_No_."

Leah sighed and searched for the nearest waiter with a tray of champagne. Not that the sparkling drink would affect her in any way; it was WB-free. She eventually found one, thanked the woman, and downed about half of the flute.

Was there a mate-bond-_whatever_ seminar they could attend? Because both she and Jacob were _still_ out of the loop (which was pretty frustrating for many reasons, including the fact that this wasn't goddamn rocket science). She certainly wasn't going to ask the rest of the best because that would only be asking for trouble? Maybe she'd reach out to Tina. Or Kim.

Or Google.

She ended up finishing all of the champagne. "No?"

"No."

Leah cleared her throat and nodded. There was nothing on Jacob's face or voice that indicated that he was lying to her. Or himself. That was good. That was progress, and they could move the fuck on. "Okay, then." She forced a smile. "It's over. Just… keep me posted when you run out like that. Yeah?"

"Yeah, that was my bad." Jacob scratched the back of his neck and breathed a sigh of relief. "We're good?"

Leah's smile might have been slight, but it was no longer forced. "As always—_Oh, look at that!_" She then took Jacob's hand and dragged him towards a medium-sized landscape painting of presumably the Pacific Northwest. "I want that over the fireplace," she declared, pointing at her next purchase. "You know what I'm talking about, right? I need this to replace that horrible dog painting my mom picked up from a garage sale."

It was indeed an oil painting on canvas of the Pacific Northwest. It would look perfect with the color scheme of Sue's living room (Aisha would be so proud in Leah's attempt at interior decorating).

Jacob took a step forward and glanced behind him. "Don't us fellow canines horrible," he said with exaggerated affront.

Leah snorted. "I'm sorry, oh dear Alpha…So?"

"I think your mom has an emotional connection to that piece of work, so it convincing her to switch may not be easy. I hope you'll have a plan."

Leah nodded. "I'm working on it." She gazed up at the painting; she imagined she had "hearts" in her eyes. "It's really nice. And reasonably priced. I'll just say it's from your sister to make her feel bad."

"You're gonna guilt-trip Sue?" Jacob shook his head, chuckling. "Isn't that supposed to work the other way around?"

Leah's wave was dismissive. "I got this," she insisted. "So, what do you think?"

"Buy it," Jacob suggested without any doubt in his voice. "Rebecca will love you forever."

"Like she doesn't already," "No, seriously. I'm gonna get this. That's the beauty of living with other people. I have some extra cash laying around."

"Roommates can be a blessing," Jacob remarked. "Want me to call someone over?"

Leah nodded, rubbing her hands together. Even if Sue pitched a fit, Leah could hang in inside her bedroom. Sure, it'd make the room even more cluttered than it already was (it wasn't the biggest room), but she didn't care. "Thanks."

Jacob grinned. "No problem."

The person in question was currently working with another guest, so Leah and Jacob decided to stay put (or stay guard, Jacob had joked). The exhibition was still lively, even more than an hour in. Although not as crowded. That worked out wonderfully; it had been too many people with too many different scents (and hygiene levels).

"Hey, have fun tomorrow," Leah told Jacob, seemingly out of the blue as she took a couple of au d' oeuvres for herself and him. She thanked the waiter and handed one of the treats to the man next to her. "Hope everything works out with your plus one. And for the love of everything holy, don't get involved in a card game."

A look of bewilderment crossed Jacob's face. "Card game at a wedding?"

Leah shrugged. "A lot of things can happen during a reception or at the after-party," she pointed out. "Look, I don't want you to embarrass yourself, lose any cool points you may have left, and poof! There go your chances of scoring another date or otherwise. Remember: be charming, and somehow take off your shift without making it awkward, and I'll sure you'll be able to pull it off—Hey, don't give me that look."

Jacob then burst into laughter, almost causing himself to choke on the fancy version of a hamburger slider. He was still laughing as Leah slapped his back a couple of times, so he didn't suffocate on her.

"Laughing at me?" Leah accused, adding a dramatic gasp. "I can't believe you. I'm trying to make sure your terrible UNO skills don't prevent you from getting laid."

After all, she had a bet to win.

Though, if she were honest with herself, which, admittedly, under these circumstances, she often wasn't, she would've been perfectly fine with losing money.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for bearing with me and my more-than-a-month-long updates and for the support. I fully intend to finish this story, but due to life being life, the updates won't be as frequent as in the past... but they will happen. **

**Also, as always, please stay safe!**


	39. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

* * *

"Aren't you tired?"

Leah was not the one to pity anyone. Pity, in her opinion, was useless. It didn't solve problems or provide any solace; pity was just a string of empty words, to be honest. But looking at the woman, sitting next to her in the car, leaning her head against the passenger window, appearing downright mentally _exhausted, _despite her valiant efforts to look otherwise, Leah couldn't help it. Tia needed to slow down before the bullshit that was reality caught up to her.

Tia lifted her head. "Of?"

"The fast life?"

Tia flashed Leah a flirty smile, but there was something wrong with it. It was forced. "There are times when I wished I could go on vacation," she admitted. "But I have an obligation. What can I do?"

"You can stop picking up men for a bit."

"Eventually." Tia's smile faded as she looked down at the money in her hands. She dropped the 20s on her lap and sighed. "Money's good. There will always be lonely men…" she trailed off, then shrugged. "Like I said, I have a job to do. And you'll be surprised when those fools will give up after a little persuasion."

Leah glanced at the money and lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, I can imagine." She returned her attention to the road. "Tell me something I'd want to know, and I'll do the same for you."

Tia let out a short laugh as she stuffed the bills under her top, inside her bra, and moved around the passenger seat until she was comfortable. The streetlights passing by illuminated her made-up face. "Ain't that against the law, sharing secrets with a lowly person like myself?"

"You're far from lowly."

"At least someone thinks so…" Tia mumbled under her breath; her gaze was glued to the moving sights from the passenger window.

Leah glanced at the other woman again, wondering what she had meant by that. Something told the detective that Tia wasn't turning tricks. But she was making that money somehow… she was curious, yes, but a cautious part of her didn't want to know. Didn't want to know how deep Tia was. "Can we be honest with each other?"

Tia snorted. "No, not really. I have a job to do."

"So, do I."

"What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?"

"A name would be a good start."

Leah pulled the car into a parking lot outside of the supermarket. It was near closing time, and not many people were around. Perfect. "Sancho Alvarez."

Tia's eyes widened. She was unpleasantly surprised; everyone who had heard of the hitman's name during the past couple of weeks was. "Sancho Alvarez…" she stalled, clearing her throat, staring straight ahead. She cleared her throat again. "It's been a while since I've heard that name—Ain't he in Mexico?"

Maybe he was now. If he were smart, he'd be south of the border right now. CPD wasn't the only one interested in the man's whereabouts.

"We have reason to believe he was in this country early last year," Leah said. "Or last month."

"You'd think after all this time, he'd be on some No-Fly List…but he's always been a slimy bastard, so it wouldn't surprise me if he slipped through the cracks."

Leah sighed. "Yeah, and it wouldn't be the first time."

"That's for damn sure."

There was now something different about Tia's demeanor, Leah observed; she didn't have a concrete word to describe it, but it seemed that Tia now had her guard down, was speaking to Leah as a peer. Like a damn fellow cop. Or an agent. Or something—Or maybe this was all just some game.

Leah wanted to ask. Goodness, she didn't think there was a question she wanted to ask _more_ at this time than _that_. But it was a touchy subject. A matter of life and death in some cases—Leah ended up keeping her thoughts on the manner to herself.

"Thank you for the gift, by the way," she said with sincerity.

"Not a problem. I would've been able to provide more, but then the battery ran out because _technology_. Nothing much came after that, anyway. Maria's seriously considering moving to DR before Labor Day. She wants to live a new life."

Easier said than done, unfortunately.

"I don't think she has a choice," Leah said. She didn't want to sound so pessimistic, but she had seen this movie before. Maria had a mark on her from both sides of the lawyer. One of the many downsides of being a widow of a murder victim. Especially one with gang ties.

"If she keeps her mouth shut, she won't suffer the same fate as Ricky…One can only hope, though. Those pendejos don't exactly follow a moral code."

"And who are these _pendejos_?"

"The ones you're trying to put away," Tia replied, though the answer wasn't exactly helpful. "She wouldn't give me a name. I'm sure that was part of the agreement… but I can't see them being linked to the crew. Who from there would want to keep her quiet?"

Leah didn't think the Fangs were involved either. According to Wilson, the gang viewed Maria as a symbol of the revenge to come. Maybe it was sincere. Maybe it was Collin's excuse to round up the troops.

If there was anyone who'd like to keep Ricky's widow quiet, it was the Volturi. But then again, they had no issue with silencing anyone permanently. Why would Maria still be alive, then? Were they afraid of the repercussions of putting down yet another _human_?

Tia leaned in closer. "I heard that the stuff from the plane belonged to the mob," she said, dropping her voice, not that anyone else could hear her. "Yeah, you heard me, the _mafia_. They got this place outside the city." She rolled her eyes. "It's supposed to be this consulting firm, but it's a front. You know how I know? They only accept cash."

Napolitano's.

"Classic." Leah snorted, giving no indication that she had prior knowledge. "They're better off running a laundromat."

Tia retreated and nodded. "That's what I'm saying." She held up a finger as she fished her phone from her bra. She quickly played around with it before holding up the screen for Leah to see. She pointed at a picture of a young man standing in the middle of Napolitano's lobby.

"You see this guy?" she asked. "You know, the tough-looking security guard? I saw him hanging around Maria's place in Cicero a few weeks back. Didn't think much of it until I found out just who Ricky and his boys were trying to steal from."

"He looks like he can snap Maria in half," Leah remarked. The photo was posted on the consulting firm's website. The guard wasn't the focus of the picture; the two consults chatting with a customer were.

"He can snap all of us in half." Tia dropped the phone in the cupholder. "He's about six-five. Looks like the picture, except even scarier. I mean, people were giving him second-looks but kept on moving. No one wanted that kind of smoke."

"Maria knows about this?"

"I told her."

"And?"

"She tried to play it off."

Leah slowly nodded. "So, he's threatening her."

"That's what I'm thinking."

Leah gave a small smile. "Look at you, being a detective."

Tia snorted and waved off Leah's compliment. "It's not out of admiration, trust me," she insisted. "I wanna get to the bottom of this bullshit, just like you do. It's fucked up what happened. And Maria… she doesn't deserve all of this. Oh yeah, she practically married into the life, but still... If she wants to go to DR, just let her be…"

Leah studied the woman as she continued on about Maria and Ricky and their fates. She seemed passionate about it as if she was a member of the family. As if all of this was personal. For a second, Leah wondered if this was indeed an act, only an aspect of the job… or if Tia was genuinely spilling her heart out.

When Tia finally finished and took a couple of deep breaths to console herself, Leah spoke up before she could even process the words, "Did you love him?"

The question was out of the blue and perhaps, not professional. It was too personal and likely had no outcome on the investigation. That was what she was only here for, right? That was why she had picked the other woman up from the hotel as if she was some john, right? To put this case finally to bed.

Tia was taken aback, but she tried to play it off. If Leah hadn't paid keen attention, the other woman might have pulled it off. "Excuse me?"

"Ricky," Leah clarified. There was no going back now. "Did you love him?"

Tia cleared her throat and turned her attention to the sights beyond the passenger window. Nothing but a row of trees with Lake Michigan in the background. It was dark with only a few street lights on and the occasional runner.

"He was a means to an end, and I just happened to get lucky," she eventually replied, voice flat, void of emotion… or at least, that was the intention. The effort was appreciated, but Leah, of all people, knew what it was like to downplay her true feelings in front of others. And to herself.

It made life easier, she supposed. Convenient. Nothing had to change. No one had to have the hard conversation with an unknown, potentially heartbroken outcome. But it didn't mean all of the avoiding didn't _suck_. It was always there… lingering in the back of her mind. Taunting. Calling her a fucking coward.

When Leah didn't provide a comment, Tia sighed. "There was no love lost, but I didn't want him to die, you know? He was involved in some shit, yes, but he was one of the smarter ones, you know? The kind that can do legit at the right moment—And anyway, it wasn't like he was going to leave his wife."

Leah nodded and started the car.

There really wasn't much else to say.

* * *

"Enzo Pasquarelli, employed as a security guard by Napolitano's since 2010," Leah read off from a report the following morning as she walked towards Jacob and Paul. "Aged 23. Born in Naples, Italy. Came to the States with his folks legally when he was a toddler. Became a citizen in 2017. A few assault charges under his belt, but all dismissed."

Jacob skimmed the page when Leah held it up to his face. "This was all during his first year of being employed by Napolitano's." He shrugged. "Perhaps the bosses were trying to do their new employee a solid?"

"Forward this to Cicero," Paul ordered. "This is their jurisdiction since Napolitano's and Maria's second rental, where the supposed stalking took place, are located in their city."

Jacob put up a hand. "Cicero's having a bit of an issue with obtaining subpoenas and arrest warrants relating to that firm," he said and added when Paul gave him a look of confusion. "They're tired of getting sued."

"Plus, this may not be entirely under Cicero's jurisdiction," Leah argued. "Enzo's current address is in Greektown. As in Chicago, and therefore, also our problem."

Paul crossed his arms. "Has this Enzo stalked Maria at her place in Albany Park?"

"Not that we know of," Jacob said.

"Of course," Paul mumbled, dropping his arms. He then took a deep breath and clapped. "Okay, talk to the man. We can't really do much else since it doesn't seem like he's done anything in this city. Hey, you never know? Maybe he's just a security guard, trying to earn an honest living."

* * *

Enzo Pasquarelli was not someone trying to earn an honest living.

It was sad, really. The guy was in his low-twenties, and instead of hanging out with his friends or whatnot, he was spending a Tuesday night inside a holding cell. All because of a very ill-advised and completely unnecessary decision. A decision made by someone who was generally not innocent.

"Can someone please explain to me what's going on?" Paul demanded as he paced around his office, frustrated but not surprised by the turn of events. Just a few hours ago, he had sent the detectives on their way, hoping that this Enzo-guy was strait-laced. And now, he had a Napolitano employee in his custody, which might be a problem if the Volturi found out. "I told you to question the man. Talk to the man. Get some info out of him. Now, tell me, why the hell is he in _my_ holding cell?"

"Booked him for assault," Leah simply said, earning a nod from her partner. It really didn't get any simpler than that. The attempt to question Enzo was entertaining, to say the least. "On a cop."

Paul stopped, turned around to face Leah. "He went after you?" he asked Leah, taking a step forward.

"No, me," Jacob answered instead. He pointed to the nonexistent mark under his eye. "A bunch to the face."

Paul's concern quickly drained as he rolled his eyes. Apparently, he was more sympathetic to Leah's woes than Jacob's. In Paul's defense, though, Jacob could be dramatic. "You look fine."

"Assault is assault," Leah argued.

"And I didn't say it _hurt_."

Paul snorted. "You let that kid get the best of you?"

Jacob ran a hand down his face. "It's been a long day."

That was true, and much to Leah's chagrin, it still wasn't over. It was only half-past one in the afternoon.

Not that Paul cared. He rolled his eyes again and informed his subordinates that their excuses weren't much of an _excuse_. He crossed his arms. "So…?"

Leah and Jared shared a look, both wondering what their captain was referring to. After shrugging, Jacob cleared his throat and asked, "So…?"

Paul shook his head and loosened his arms. "So, did you anything out of him?" he asked. "Did he talk?"

Leah glanced at her partner, who was shifting in his seat. He looked up at the captain. "Well, he did tell me to go fuck myself… and the rest of the department. So, I don't think he's in the mindset to cooperate."

"So, he didn't talk," Paul concluded. He cursed under his breath and then asked, "Where's his lawyer?"

"He'll make an appearance soon," Leah said. She and Jacob intended to speak to Enzo before his legal representative made an appearance. "Public Defender. Morris Jackson."

Paul cocked an eyebrow. "A public defender?" He was surprised, and understandably so. "Jackson's straight. Definitely not the Novak-type. Since when does the fucking Volturi leave their crones out to dry?"

That was a good point. The Volturi could be many things, but they loved to spend money on their henchmen's legal problems. Or the loyal ones, at least.

"Maybe Enzo's not one of their crones?" Leah suggested with a shrug. After all, Enzo was human, and the Volturi didn't have the best track record when it came to those who weren't vampires… but she had some doubt about the Volturi not caring.

So, did Paul. "Given that he's not a vampire, I would've agreed with you. But all of his prior charges were dismissed, weren't they? Who was his defense attorney on those cases?"

"We'll check it out," Jacob vowed.

Paul shook his head. "Not necessary," he insisted. Probably because the detectives had enough on their plate. He then scoffed, crossing his arms ago. "Morris Jackson, huh?"

That man did have a reputation of getting on the police department's and assistant state attorney's office's nerves.

Leah nodded. "It seems so."

* * *

About an hour later, Leah was waiting outside of the station's interrogation room for the public defender while Jacob stayed inside with Enzo. A very stubborn Enzo who was convinced that he was going to beat the charge. Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn't.

"_Leah Clearwater_."

Leah sharply turned around and smirked.

Just the man she expected to see. Morris Jackson. One of the best public defenders around who deserved more. But for today, she was going to put aside her admiration. Now, they were on opposite sides of this game. "Morris Jackson," she greeted in return. "How's it going?"

Jackson stopped a couple of feet from Leah. "I have yet another one your victims on my docket, but either that, I can't complain," he said. "Except for my salary—Got an interview next week."

Leah wanted to congratulate him further, but this was not the time or the place to do so. "About damn time," she said instead with a small smile. "How are the wife and kids?"

"Driving me up the wall but can't live without them," Jackson said with a mix of exasperation and fondness as he followed the detective. He had four little kids; Leah didn't know how he did it. Jackson's expression quickly shifted into a serious one. "Hey, nothing personal, alright?"

Leah nodded, not that Jackson had to even say anything. "Of course. We're both doing our jobs," she said, stopping short of the interview room. "We fully expect you to give us Hell."

Jackson smirked. "Likewise."

* * *

"The conversation stops _now_." Jackson dropped the suitcase on the table. "What are you doing questioning my client without my presence?" he demanded. He had his game face on. "Do you know the procedure, the _law_?" He glanced at Enzo and sat down next to him. "God knows this department doesn't need any more lawsuits."

Jacob dropped his pen onto the table, leaned back in the plastic chair, and rolled his eyes. "Enough with the theatrics, and let's started, shall we?"

Leah sat down in the seat next to her partner and had her note pad and pen ready.

Enzo, surprised by the newcomer, looked up at the scowling Jackson and scowled himself. "Who the hell are—"

"Your savior," Jackson sharply replied. "Now listen to me, you don't speak unless I tell you to." He put up a hand when the younger man opened his mouth. "One wrong word and you'll be spending the rest of your life in Cook County."

Jacob scoffed. "Doesn't sound like the attorney for an innocent man to me."

Jackson gave the detective a sharp look. "I know you people operate. _Why_ is my client here?"

"Assault," Leah said. "Among other things."

Jackson cocked an eyebrow. "Among other things?"

Leah nodded. "All we wanted were some answers to questions relating to an ongoing investigation. Enzo, over here, wasn't even under arrest or anything," She paused and shook her head in disappointment. "He could've said no, and we would've been on our way, but then he punched my partner in the face… Can't let that slide."

Enzo grumbled and rolled his eyes.

He could've at least denied the allegation.

Jacob folded his hands and leaned forward. "Give us what we want," he said, stealing a glance of the still scowling younger man. "We can forget about the assault charge."

Jackson wasn't satisfied. "And replace that charge with what?"

"It depends," Leah said with a shrug. "We can also be looking at intimidation and stalking of a potential state _and_ federal witness. And he better _pray_ he didn't lay a finger on said-witness."

Enzo's eyes widened as he quickly sat up in his seat. He looked at his attorney, who was glaring at the detectives and gulped. "What the—"

"_Mr. Pasquarelli_."

Enzo shot up his seat. "He's fucking accusing me of—"

"_Sit down_," Jackson demanded the younger man and then turned his attention back to Leah and Jacob. "What was the question, Detectives? Knowing CPD's _stellar_ reputation, I'm sure it was inappropriate."

"All we asked if he knew a woman," Leah said. "That was it, and then the fist started swinging."

"That's not—"

Jackson rose a hand, silencing the younger man. "Can I have the room with my client, or is that going to be a problem?"

Jacob slapped the table and, along with his partner, rose from his seat. "Take all the time you need."

* * *

"My client says he didn't do anything wrong," Jackson maintained several minutes later, and Leah and Jacob took their seats once again. The defense attorney was confident, but not as much as he usually was.

"Just my job," Enzo added.

The defense attorney shot Enzo a look of disapproval. He preferred his client to keep his mouth shut, which didn't bode well for Enzo. It just screamed guilty. "He had no intentions of intimidating anyone and would never stalk anyone for any reason."

Enzo nodded.

"Really." Leah folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. "So, what is your job, Enzo?"

"This interview is over."

Jacob threw up his hands. He knew of Jackson's grandstanding ways, but it was still a pain in the ass to deal with the attorney. "We didn't even—"

Jackson wasn't hearing it. "This interview is _over_."

"Okay," Leah settled. There was no point in extending this back and forth; that was Jenks's job. And anyway, Jackson specialized in convincing his clients to make a deal. For better or for worse. "This interview is over."

* * *

"Well, that was premature," Jacob grumbled as he skimmed through his rather short list of notes. Leah's weren't any longer. He shut the notepad and tossed it onto the tall file cabinet next to him. "I thought we were getting somewhere."

Leah shrugged.

The questioning ultimately ceased at Jackson's request. The lawyer and the detectives remained in the interview room as Enzo was led away by a couple of cops; he would be spending time in the holding cell until his court hearing the next day.

Jackson approached them, as sunny as ever. He had his arms crossed, but his usual tough-defense-lawyer-scowl was dropped. "I'm a defense lawyer, Detectives," he said. "It's my job to protect and do what's right for my client." He glanced at the closed door and sighed. "He's just a kid."

Which always made criminal proceedings so sad. Young kids, young adults with the lives ahead of them caught up in this bullshit.

"Twenty-three is young," Leah said, "But under the law, he's not a kid. He's an adult. A full-grown one."

"We are all dumb at that age," Jackson argued. "Working for Napolitano's won't give him any favors, I know that, but I highly doubt he was a part of some grand criminal conspiracy. At least, knowingly— Hey, don't give me that look. I'm not BSing because I'm that kids' counsel. I'm telling you this as someone who, despite everything, respects the both of you."

Leah cleared her throat and nodded. "Duly noted."

"Enzo's a security guard," Jacob said. "He must know something about the happenings in that firm."

Jackson didn't deny it. "Unless he has anything that can connect to this city, everything Napolitano's-related is Cicero's problem," he said. "Which I'm sure you know what's going on there."

"Not much," Jacob admitted.

Leah leaned forward. "Why are you telling us, really?"

Jackson dropped his arms. "I've been on this job for ten long years," he said, the fatigue was evident in his voice. "I'm sick and tired of the pawns being sent to Cook County while their bosses run free, laughing in all of our faces." He huffed, then looked directly at the detectives. "You're not really after Enzo; he's just an aspiring foot solider. You don't honestly give a shit about him. What you want is the _king_."

He wasn't lying.

"Three kings and a queen," Leah clarified. There wasn't much she could say about the attorney's comment. He was right. The targets, the big catch, were Aro, Caius, Marcus, and Sulpicia. Everyone else was just a consolation prize."

Jackson nodded, but before he could provide a comeback, Jacob beat him to the punch. "Are you implying that there's a deal on the horizon?" he carefully asked.

"Like I said, I do what's best for my client." Jackson then placed both hands flat on the table and rose from his. Looking down at the detectives, he fixed his tie and gathered his briefcase. His gaze eventually rested solely on Jacob. "A punch to the face?" he commented with subtle amusement. "Couldn't have been that hard. Can't even see a bruise."

Leah was going to argue that a hit didn't have to leave a mark to constitute assault, but Jacob played along with the attorney. He leaned back in his seat. "It's the melanin," he snarked.

Jackson snorted. "Don't play that shit with me, Detective. I've been in a few fistfights back in the day. Your face looks perfectly fine." He glanced at Leah, then back at Jacob. "I'm sure we'll meet again."

Jacob smirked. "I'm sure we will."

* * *

"Jake," Leah whispered into her phone as if fearing a louder voice would wake up her mother and brother. It was a foolish thought, to be honest. Both were fast asleep in their own rooms, beyond Leah's locked bedroom door.

There was a low chuckle on the other line. "Jake? Not Black? Not Jacob? Should I be _concerned_?"

"No one has ever called you Jake?"

"Sadly, the shortened version of my name has always been JB or Jakey. Not a fan of either, by the way.

"Are you telling me that you don't like Jakey-Poo?" Leah joked, biting down a laugh. That was Embry's and Jared's favorite nickname. Much to Jacob's horror and the rest of the pack's amusement.

As expected, Jacob groaned. "What am I? Two?" Leah could picture him shaking his head. "What's up?"

"I gotta tell you something."

Sure, it was eleven in the evening. But there was just something that Leah couldn't get off her mind. She needed to tell someone, namely the person who needed to hear it the most. Perhaps. It was work-related, and neither she nor Jacob were at work.

"Shoot."

"I think I know why Enzo wasn't given a private defense attorney," Leah said. "No ties to the Volturi."

"But he works for Napolitano's…."

"No, you fool, I'm talking about a paper trail. Public defenders are assigned randomly. Well, everyone not named Vincent Novak. Defense attorneys don't work that way. Whether they like it or not, unless they want the IRS to make a surprise appearance, the commission has to be announced. And traced."

"They provided him with a legal for those four BS assault charges, but not for the most serious one—You're a fucking genius, do you know that?"

Leah grinned. "So, I've been told."

* * *

Leah picked up Enzo's file off her desk, opened it, and began to review the contents. For the umpteenth time. Jackson hadn't managed to squeeze out a deal from his client, but she had faith that it would happen eventually. A minute or so passed before she began to lose focus.

She glanced up at her partner, who was looking through his own copy of the file and slightly smiled. "So, does this past Saturday mean that the questions, the random set-ups, and recommendations will stop?" she asked as she removed a picture of a much younger Enzo and his family; they all looked happen. "From your sisters," she added for clarification.

Jacob looked up and scoffed. "Ha! You know who you're talking about, right?" He closed the folder. "I didn't ask Jasmine to be my wife, so I'm back to square one."

Leah put aside the file as well. Suddenly, she was much more interested in this topic that Enzo Pasquarelli. It was fine (meaning that Paul wouldn't yell at her); they had time to review his file later. Criminal proceedings didn't necessarily take long in this city. "Hey, you remember her name," she remarked, forcing a chuckle. She hoped her partner hadn't caught on. "That's progress. Does that mean…?"

Jacob scrunched up his face. "Apparently, we're now emergency plus-one's."

Leah slowly nodded as she reached for her first morning cup of coffee. She took a long sip. "Second date?" she asked out of curiosity. Mostly. A part of her, that lingering annoyance in the mind of her mind, wanted nothing more but for him to say _no_. It wasn't worth dwelling on the thought any further.

Or that sound that strangely sounded like a growl.

Her growl.

Her _wolf's_ growl.

And it wasn't a happy one.

She might possibly be hearing things.

It was before eight in the morning, and her coffee could be stronger.

"Huh?"

Leah took another sip. "Is there going to be a second date?"

Jacob blinked, then shook his head. "Nah," he said, waving dismissively. "Rebound."

"Oh," Leah simply replied. He didn't seem that upset; she supposed that was a good thing. It felt like Vegas all over again, except she sensed something like guilt, like regret in his voice. Not that he had any reason to. "You tend to attract those kinds, huh?" she added as a joke.

Jacob's expression turned sheepish. "What can I say?" he played along. But not entirely, Leah noted. He shrugged. "I'm rebound-worthy."

She could've simply been relieved but the flippancy in his statement, but she couldn't help but stick to the self-depreciation underneath it all. "No, you're worth more than that," she said without any doubt in her voice. "Much more."

Jacob's smile turned genuine. "Thank you." He then picked up his personal phone, pressed on the screen a few times before holding it up. "Look. Courtesy of Sister Number Two. I was stupid enough to let her use his phone for a call."

Leah laughed out loud. Jacob didn't mind it. He seemed more amused and bemused than annoyed. "She set up a Tinder account for you?"

"Yes," Jacob groaned, shaking his head at the profile page displayed on his phone. "Five minutes. That's how long I was gone. I was at my aunt's, went to the bathroom, said hello to a cousin, who was visiting at the time, and then when I became back to this shit."

"Damn, she's going _hard_." Leah wasn't going to lie; she appreciated Rebecca's persistence. She knew Jacob's sisters' meddling was out of love. They reminded her of Sue and her valiant efforts. "Can't you just tell her no? That you're not interested?"

Jacob put away his phone. "I could do that, but then that'll only prompt her to bring in the calvary, and I will never be drunk enough to deal with them all _the_ _same time_." He shuddered. "My aunts and cousins. I love them to death, but _no_."

Leah nodded. His family sounded just like hers. "Oh." She gave him a sympathetic smile. "You know this would normally be the optimal time to offer to be your fake girlfriend, but something tells me that may make things worse."

"A _lot_ worse."

"Duly noted."

"It wasn't for the whole-lot-worse part, I'd ask you in a drop of a hat."

Leah had no doubt in her mind that he would. "How sweet," she said with a low chuckle. "Have you ever considered just doing it the right way? Without everyone and their mom being involved?"

"Then, that would imply that I'm lonely."

Leah lifted an eyebrow. "Well, are you?"

Jacob shook his head. The amusement returned. "No. Don't you remember, Clearwater? I have five and a half kids that demand my constant attention."

Leah rolled her eyes and tossed a paperclip clip at the man. "I don't mean the pack, you fool—So, you're good?"

Jacob hesitated to answer. He suddenly tensed, but then oddly tried to play it off with a dismissive wave. "I'm good," he insisted, but he wasn't fooling Leah.

She cleared her throat and hid her frown behind her mug. Jacob was doing that again. Closing up. He was shutting himself from her. Not that she could _read_ the man's mind. Sort of. It was complicated.

Leah wondered if he even knew he was doing this.

Knowing Jacob, most likely not.


	40. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

* * *

The day before her ninth birthday, Leah had made an ill-advised decision to venture away from her usually well-done hamburger to a medium-rare one. _It's about the flavor,_ her father had always said. Leah had been skeptical, but she still tried it and immediately regretted it.

How hadn't she died from dehydration, she didn't know. But what she did know besides vowing never to take another sip of Gatorade (electrolytes, be damned), was that food poisoning _sucked_; it had sucked so much that from that moment own, Leah had identified herself as a strict pescatarian—She could've considered just being a vegetarian, but she had a thing for shrimp and seafood had never done her digestive system wrong.

The point was that from an early age, Leah had entirely accepted the fact that she would never eat a piece of meat (not from the sea) ever again. That was, as fate would have it, until last September.

Things had changed since that night, and she, in her personal and humble opinion, there was _nothing_ like the smell of a good, juicy piece of rarely-cooked steak. Browned to perfection on the outside, pink and red on the inside. Seasoned-well, as well, though if Leah were honest with herself, this mouth-watering piece of 72 oz. deliciousness that was displayed right in front of her, didn't need any.

After much effort, Leah finally turned her attention from the open food container to the man sitting across from her, watching her with extreme amusement.

"What is this for?" Leah asked. Because although she was more than grateful, she knew the steak didn't cost ten bucks. She breathed in the delicious aroma one last time before closing the container. Lunch wouldn't be for another couple of hours.

Jacob's only response was a toothy smile. It was a brilliant one, but it didn't answer Leah's question.

Leah narrowed her eyes. "What did _you_ do?"

Jacob gasped, clutching his chest. "You wound me, Clearwater," he said, exaggerating his pain and disappointment. "I was in the mood for some prime ribs, so I stopped at a spot on the West Side—Gotta take you there sometime—Figure I'd bring you something back because that's what friends do, and now you're accusing _me_ of an ulterior motive?"

Leah waved off her partner's accusation. "How much?"

Jacob shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

Leah rolled her eyes; she hated it when he did this. "Jacob—"

"_Black, Clearwater, get in here_!"

Both detectives looked up at their captain, who was standing in his office's doorway, balancing his work phone between the side of his face and shoulder. When he caught of his subordinates, he mouthed "now" before retreating into his office.

Leah and Jacob exchanged a curious look, then did what they were told. When they entered their captain's office, they found Paul still on the phone, leaning back in his chair relaxed, almost jovial. He must have received some terrific news.

Paul gestured the detectives to sit down. "… _If you need anything, you know who to reach out to_," he said into the phone, genuinely sincere. After exchanging some departing pleasantries, he hung up the phone and sat up in his seat. "That was the ATF," he said, failing to hide his excitement. "This morning, they found and arrested Jackie Chan on international firearms trafficking and possession charges. He's looking at spending at least a couple of decades in the slammer without parole."

Leah brought a hand to her mouth. If this really was true, then she was going to have to find a way to legally deliver a gallon of blood to Benjamin as a gift.

"You're fucking with us," Jacob remarked with disbelief. Just earlier that morning, he and Leah had been convinced that Jackie Chan was lost to them forever. No one had anything on the guy. Except for the ATF, apparently.

"Which means he's willing to cooperate with the feds… and with us."

Leah dragged her hand down from her mouth to her chest. She blinked a couple of times. "With us?"

Jacob shared a quick look with the woman next to him before asking, "No strings attached?"

"Apparently, your ATF-friend has put in a good word for this unit, so none of the usual feds-BS," Paul explained. "No strings attached… well, that's not entirely true. We can't arrest him ourselves, but we can try to extract information from him."

"No state charges."

"What's the deal?" Leah asked.

"Five years with a chance of parole after two," Paul said. He caught onto his detectives' perplexed expression. "I know, that's a damn good deal. A stupid deal. Hence why he's willing to star in a once of a lifetime, one-man concert at the Civic Opera House. So, if I were you, I'd get those tickets ASAP."

"I thought another team was handling Napolitano's?" Leah asked.

"They are." Paul folded his hands on the desk. "I don't you to ask about Napolitano's. I want you to find out if he knew Gianna or about the heist. And why the hell was eight people found in a ditch."

"When's the show?" Jacob asked.

"10:00 am Monday at MCC."

That gave them five days.

Leah faced Jacob; they both nodded and grinned, excited about the new prospect. Finally, something was happening on that front. "We'll be there," she said. "Hell, we'll be there early."

* * *

"Recognize this number?"

"Do you?"

"No."

Leah shrugged. "Could be spam," then with a smirk, "Make sure you don't give out your social security number to the IRS. It's the damn IRS. They already have our info."

Jacob gave his partner a thumbs up but picked up the phone anyway. "Black," he said into the mouthpiece, and then his eyes widened with interest. "Old man. Never thought I'd see the day you call at my desk. What's up?"

Leah stopped writing to listen on. Wilson wasn't whispering, but he wasn't yelling. Which could mean he wasn't in trouble. "_Don't worry; I'm on a burner_… _Ever heard of Murder Inc_?" she could hear. She blinked a couple of times and caught Jacob's confused gaze. They both shrugged.

_Murder Inc_? What decade was this, the 1930s?

"I didn't know you were still bumping heads with the mob," Jacob said with a light chuckle. "Of course, I've heard of Murder Inc. What about it?"

_"They call themselves the Auferentes. According to Google Translate, that means Removers. Ten of them with supposedly no affiliation to any group to maintain no-bias vow. Species are not an issue. If you kill on the low, you're golden_."

Leah brought her eyebrows together. She was still confused; it was as if Wilson was speaking on code, which was usually not his modus operandi. "_Who_?" she mouthed to her partner. "_Murder Inc_?"

Jacob shrugged. "So, basically, you're talking about an assassin order."

Wilson made an affirmative sound. "_Reminds me of Murder Inc_. _Because of the so-called no-loyalty rule_.

"Who's they?"

_They_, according to Wilson, was the Velasquez Cartel's hit squad. Sort of. Wilson stressed that they weren't loyal to the cartel, but he did mention that Sancho Alvarez, who was known to be the cartel's main hitman, was a member of it. To be more exact, one of its founding members. Wilson then added that Alvarez wasn't particularly loyal to Maria; it was just that the coven leader had a lot of money and wasn't afraid to spend it.

Leah didn't know what to believe.

"So, the Auferentes to the you-know is what Murder Inc was to The Commission? Got it. So, it was truly just business, huh? The Volturi outsourced the hit to Velasquez, who outsourced it to this group. I feel like I'm back in construction." He wrote down some notes and asked, "So, it was truly just business, huh? Nothing personal."

Wilson was noncommittal.

Leah leaned back in her seat and sighed as the conversation between the men carried on. This was a significant lead, to be honest, they sort of had a name. She did a search Google search on the department's computer. Nothing of note came up except an excerpt from a 1924 article in Italian. Actually, according to Google Translate, Sicilian.

_Auferentes_, she wrote down in a notepad. She was going to mention the name to Jane during their next meet up. Whenever that would be. Jane had been in the dark for quite some time.

Or she could just ask Rosalie.

* * *

"Have you ever heard of the group, Auferentes?" Leah asked Rosalie as she watched the vampire consume her mid-afternoon snack. She and Jacob were able to pay a visit to the downtown office between appointments the day after receiving the information from Wilson.

The conversation was slated for only fifteen minutes, top. Not a second more, the fixer had warned them. After all, she was doing them a favor by accepting to speak with them—In Leah's opinion, Rosalie was doing everything in her power not to get arrested again. An arrest record was bad for business.

Rosalie stopped mid-sip and rose both eyebrows. Clearing her throat, she placed her glass aside. The expression on her face might have been unrecognizable, but there was one thing for certain: she knew that name, and she hadn't expected to hear it coming from the detective's mouth. "I may have," she said with a noncommittal shrug, but she wasn't fooling anyone."

"So, that's a yes," Jacob concluded.

Rosalie sighed and finally finished her cup of blood. "I haven't heard of that name in a very long time," she said. "I was under the impression that it was defunct." She cocked her head to the side. "Now, my question for you: how do _you_ know of that name?"

Leah found Rosalie's wording very interesting. "We were not supposed to?" she carefully asked.

It was an unspoken rule," Rosalie said, looking beyond the detectives. The door was closed behind them, but it appeared she wanted to make sure. She leaned back in her chair and slightly frowned. "Don't tell me _they're_ involved."

"We don't know," Jacob admitted. "But we do know what Alvarez was a member of that group."

"Of course," Rosalie said. "I'm pretty sure he helped found it, but that was _so_ long ago, even before I was in the picture." Her frown returned as she shook her head, disappointed more than upset. "So, she resorted to that…" she trailed off with a sigh.

The detectives shared a split-second glance before Leah asked, "Care to explain?"

"The Auferentes was, or I suppose, _is_ an organization that was created to keep order within the business. Back in the day, the bosses would rely on crooked cops or soldiers who came back home and adjust to get rid of complications… but then after a very controversial incident that remains under wraps, the bosses figured it was too risky…" Rosalie huffed. "They were _only_ supposed to handle disputes between covens."

"The Fangs are not a coven," Jacob said.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "No, they are not."

"But Garrett was a part of one," Leah reminded everyone. "So, I guess the Auferentes were sort of abiding the rules," and then she asked the fixer, "Do the Volturi still have to them?"

"They're the reason I thought group no longer existed," Rosalie said. "And if you're wondering if I can provide ID's, unfortunately, I cannot. Sancho was the only constant. The Auferentes did not promote job security or retirement… I thought they were _smarter_ than this."

Leah still didn't understand why the Auferentes being involved was such a big deal; they were an assassination squad. They executed people. "What is the issue?" she asked. "Really?"

Rosalie let out yet another sigh. "We already have enough drama with our own species. We _don't_ need any more with others. And with all due respect, shapeshifters can be a real pain in the ass."

Jacob made an amused sound and then added, "Well, whatever the case is, we believe that they orchestrated the Ditch murders, and it's our job to bring them to justice. Have them pay for what they did."

"Then you have to catch the big fish first," Rosalie advised, rising from her seat. The fifteen minutes were almost up. "Then the rest of the little fishes will come along… Unless someone decides to talk out of turn, which from the sounds of it, is a tall order."

Leah hated that Rosalie was right. "Unfortunately, they take the concept of not snitching very seriously."

Rosalie snorted. "Pity."

* * *

"How did the meetup with Alicia Rivera turn out?"

Benjamin slid his hands down the steering wheel and sighed. He looked more tired than usual. More exhausted than any time while he was officially working undercover as a so-called "triple-agent". But he was here, parked alongside the detectives in yet another barely-lit abandoned parking lot, on another Chicago evening. Leah and Jacob couldn't be more grateful.

"Well, she no longer works at Midway," Benjamin answered Leah's question, adding a quiet humorless laugh. "She and a couple of her buddies… However, to be honest, I think her unemployment is the least of her problems. She entered witness protection at the insistence of everyone and their mother."

That escalated quickly.

Leah smacked her head against the passenger headrest and groaned, "Of course, she is."

Goodness, just how many people linked to the investigation had to put into witness protection? Did everyone know how much that shit _cost_? And Leah was pretty sure Alicia wouldn't be the last.

Jacob cursed under his breath, and then asked, "What the hell happened?"

"She sang. The moment she got off that flight from Miami, she fucking sang. Claimed she was a part of the conspiracy. All for five grand, which is low-balling if you ask me. But then again, the mastermind did threaten her with her life… so, I guess that's a small consolation prize."

"Which part of the conspiracy?" Jacob wondered because, unfortunately, there were many levels to the heist.

"The first part," Benjamin said. "The actual conspiracy. Not the whole killing thing… speaking of which, according to her, she hasn't seen her cousin for a few months. She thought he was in Mexico. Good news, we do have a profile, and the alias checked out, by the way."

Leah slightly smiled. She knew Heidi would come through. "So, she's not going to jail?"

Benjamin shook his head. "No, but your family's about to be in some deep shit," he told Jacob in an even more serious voice. "People don't take stealing from commercial planes lightly, especially if it involved illegal arms. Unless…"

Jacob cleared his throat. "They make a deal."

"Why isn't anyone making a real move?" Leah asked, frustration evident in her voice. So many people could have been arrested by now. Charged, and maybe even sentenced since the investigation was one of CPD's and the feds' top priorities.

"Everyone's after the Volturi," Benjamin said. "Everything else can fall to the waist side."

"For now," Jacob remarked, turning the key in the ignition. The promised fifteen-minute conversation was coming to an end.

Benjamin nodded and revved up his own engine. "For now."

* * *

"You know what I've just realized?" Jacob asked out of the blue as he turned onto Lake Shore Drive. As expected, there was the usual morning rush-hour traffic, but he didn't seem as annoyed than he usually would be at this time.

"What?" Leah asked, only partially paying attention to her partner's comment as she tried to determine which move to make in Candy Crush. She only had two more tries in the round before losing any rights to play another game for fifteen minutes (goodness forbade she would _buy_ more lives. She didn't have that kind of money).

Now, she had no more remaining moves.

God damnit.

Jacob didn't immediately respond. Instead, he turned on the radio to listen for the traffic reports. He stole a glance at Leah and scoffed. "Lost another game?"

"These rounds are becoming harder and harder," Leah grumbled, returning to her phone's home screen to choose another game. She had about a good fifteen traffic to sit through; the games kept her sane (and Jacob, who liked to tease her when she lost). "It's getting on my nerves."

"Aren't you on round 300?"

"_399_," Leah corrected, and then, "So, what did you realize?"

"I haven't been shot at or flat-out _attacked_ in a while—the whole Enzo-incident doesn't count."

Leah looked up, somewhat alarmed. "I hope you don't see that's a bad thing…"

Jacob shook his head. "No, of course, not," he insisted with a forced chuckle. "It's just that last year, during this time, we would've been prepping for the raid from hell. That entire year was _crazy_, but this year…"

"Don't jinx it, Black," Leah warned, though she had to agree with him. "I rather not have a repeat of the tunnel raid."

"I don't think no one does," Jacob said. "I don't care what anyone says, but that night made Saint Patrick's look tame."

Leah was surprised at the comment. "Really?" To this day, she heard horror stories about that holiday from hell. "Even though it was the reason why you had to change Paul?"

Jacob shrugged. "Handicap matches with vampires don't exactly have the best chances for survival," he pointed out. "And, at least, all of the drama occurred was _outside_."

"I never want to step foot into those tunnels again," Leah quietly said, grimacing at the memory. A simple raid during a meeting had turned into chaotic shootout featuring law enforcement, criminal vampires, and the damned Children of the Moon (who, freed from their chains, had a vicious mind of their own).

"You and me both."

Leah pocked her phone. She lost yet another two rounds in under a minute. "You think this investigation will ever end?"

That was indeed the hundred-million-dollar question.

Jacob looked in Leah's direction and gave a weary sigh. "You know when you gave us that video from Jane, the one that shows Demetri delivering the bite, a part of me thought this was all over. After all, we had the evidence, right then and there. Sure, the main suspect had died months before, but still…" He shook his head. "But it's every single time we turn around, there's a twist. A new player. A new _death_… this shit is for TV shows—I think Embry's writing a script."

"He's writing a tell-all disguised as urban fantasy. Apparently, he already started chapter one, though, if you ask me, he's being a bit premature. We don't even have an ending for this shit—Hey, a little off topic but, tell me something you've never told anyone."

Jacob shot his partner an odd look, but then laughed. "Are we seriously doing this to pass the time?"

Leah lightly chuckled and shrugged. She checked out the traffic ahead; it was now moving, but they were going to be late to work. "You got anything better else to do?" she asked. "I refuse to do anything work-related until we physically step foot into the station… _Come on_."

Jacob snorted. "Why? So, you can use it against me?"

"I don't know if I have the heart, to be honest. I'm only curious—"

"Sometimes I wonder if I know what the hell I'm doing."

Leah had expected something more salacious. "Like every other person on this planet?" she replied with a smirk. "Human or not?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, with the whole alpha-thing," he quietly admitted. "I'm still confused about _how_ I got to this position."

Leah's twisted grin disappeared. Oh shit, he was serious. "Are you complaining?" she asked, hoping that he wasn't. Based on her conversations with fellow shapeshifter and friend, Tina, losing an alpha and trying to find another one was a pain in the ass. Not that Leah intended to be selfish or anything… but she didn't want the man next to her to have second thoughts about this.

"Not really."

"Look, I know I'm not as well-versed in wolf/shapeshifter life as you are, but I'm pretty sure you can't fake it. People follow you for a reason…" Leah dropped her head to the side. "Seriously? You've never told anyone this?"

"Who wants an alpha who second-guesses himself half the time?"

"People who aren't living in a fantasy-land," Leah remarked, trying to lighten the mood. But she stopped trying because apparently, this was something that had bothered Jacob for quite a time. She could tell. "You live, and you learn. We all gotta do it. Why not you?" She took a deep breath. "So, I'm guessing that you can't simply apply to be an alpha? Take a test or anything?"

"You know how you have that random stray dog or cat who just all of a sudden follows you home, and for some weird reason, you accept them? It's kinda like that."

"So, no application?"

"No application."

"Who was the first?"

"Embry."

"I can't say I'm too surprised. Despite all of the teasing, he looks up to you. They all do."

Jacob finally broke into a smile. "Ha! I'm going to remind him of that… I'm gonna remind _everyone_ about that."

Leah could only imagine the look on Paul's face. "Speaking of everyone, we should have a movie night. With the pack and some friends, maybe? I don't know, this can be some bonding outside of Sag Valley."

Jacob rubbed his chin. "That's not a bad idea…"

Leah snapped her fingers. "We can do like a potluck. But we'll have to convince Embry's girlfriend to cook because that man can't even do pasta, which I don't know how that's possible… and we may need to lay off of Paul's friend's questionable moonshine."

"We have to teach him how to make pasta because that's really sad."

"And introduce him to non-fast food before it's too late."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Too late?"

"We're not vampires, Jacob. We're not going to have the same physique forever. As we grow older, our metabolism drops. And despite what you want to believe, you're not going to be eighty with a six-pack."

Jacob slapped his stomach. "I'm working towards that… You know he refuses to eat salad, right? He says it's against his nature."

"Wolves can _eat_ leaves," Leah said; it was the same fact she had to remind most of the pack save for Quill (the sensible one) when they complained to her about having some greens (or _God forbid_, salad) on the side. "So, we'll alternate between houses?"

"Sue'll be good with that?"

Leah scoffed. "Oh, please. She'll be offended if we _don't_ host anything over there. We also have a big enough backyard. I mean, obviously, no one can shift, but it's a lot better than your sad-excuse of a balcony."

Jacob chuckled. "I think it's supposed to serve as decoration more than anything."

"Still, if you can't even fit a small grill out there, then what is the point?" Leah teased with a smile, and then an idea came to mind. "Hey, can we make a detour?"

"We're already running late—"

"It's related to work."

* * *

"I'm not going to lie. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Despite everything, we still work for the same employer," Leah told her ex-husband, adding a small smile. She was standing in front of Sam's husband, with Jacob not far behind. The squad area was packed, but only a few were paying attention (unfortunately, some rumors never die). "How are you?"

They had one spoken to each other a handful of times; both seemed to be in a much better place than before. Leah was glad for it; she was tired of her former marriage's drama; she just wanted to ask Sam some questions about the case and go on her way. Though, it seemed that Jacob had other ideas; he didn't exactly hide his hardened glares, but in Sam's credit, he never acknowledged the animosity.

Sam's smile was tentative, a bit wary for good reasons. "I can't complain," he said." He then looked behind his ex-wife to where her partner stand. "Black."

"Uley."

Leah suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She was going to have to have a little chat with her partner about his tendency not to hide his feelings when Sam was around (she appreciated the gesture, but this was _not_ the time). "You seem more relaxed," she said. "Seems that you don't miss the craziness that's the Voldemort Unit."

Sam let out a light chuckle. Still wary. "This is the Violent Crimes Unit," he said. "It gets crazy, but then again, there is less you-know-who involved, so I'll take it." He leaned back in his seat and placed his hands behind his head. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what's the impromptu visit for?"

Leah decided to take a seat. "We're having a tough time tracking down those responsible for the Green Lawn Ditch murders," she admitted. "Thought you could provide some insight."

"Everyone says it was the Volturi's doing."

"They outsourced the hit," Jacob told Sam. "The Velasquez are the prime suspects."

Sam slowly nodded. "So, that's why you're here."

"You worked with them intimately," Leah said. "You know them better than we do."

Sam sighed. "I suppose."

"Any mention of a hit squad?" Jacob asked.

Sam snorted as he sat up in his seat. "It's a damn cartel. Of course, there's a hit squad. Two, technically. One entirely loyal to the cartel. The other one, well, if you have the money, they'll do anything," he said. "Never interacted with them… I know, I know, not too helpful, but…" He opened his desk bottom draw and pulled out a file shoved in the back. "Check this out."

Leah took the file and skimmed the contents. Once finished, she looked up at Sam, perplexed. "This was your case back at the Voldemort… _Sam_."

"Check it out," Sam insisted. "I'm supposed to be dead, remember?" He gave a humorless chuckle. "Maria doesn't like to get her hands wet, for the most part. I wasn't high enough in the ranks to personally get offed by her or her captains. In those cases, she outsources to this group."

"The Auferentes?" Jacob offered.

Sam blinked a couple of times, then shrugged. "Maybe? Everyone called them the A-Team." He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his chin. "My would-be killer was a prospect. You have to do certain things to even consider going to their version of training camp." He sat up and quickly scribbled on a note before handing it to Leah. "He's in prison. Serving twenty-five to life."

"Doesn't sound like a plea deal to me," Leah said, shutting the file closed.

"Because it wasn't. He refused to fold," Sam said. "He was sentenced a few months ago. It wasn't big news because the ditch murders happened around that time." He frowned. "I'm not taking it personally."

How couldn't it be?"

"They're keeping a you-know-who at Cook County?" Jacob asked.

"Oh, he's not a vampire," Sam said. "The important ones are vamps, of course, but I hear they're to employing humans because apparently, we're more disposable." He frowned, then added, "Get through him, and you get the names of your hit squad. The prospects usually do the main members' dirty work. Unless he did everything blind-folded, he should be able to give you some identifiers."

* * *

"He could've told us about this earlier," Jacob complained as he and Leah emerged from the police station. Their conversation with Sam was cut short by a call from a dispatcher. A domestic dispute turned deadly. "Much earlier."

Leah glanced at the building behind her before entering the car. "To be fair, the thought of asking Sam had only dawned on me about an hour ago," she said. Not that she wanted to give Sam an out, but Jacob could be petty. It was a personal-thing, she understood that, but Sam did know what he was doing on the professional front. "It was an oversight on multiple fronts."

Jacob's response was a grunt.


End file.
